0 comments/  51378 views/  2 favorites

Opening Night

By: Ms_Messalina



This is not the first time you've seen her like this: Lips red and swollen, legs apart, nipples pointing skyward, laying back on the bed and waiting for your entrance.

You admire her and pick up on her tension. You know she wants the long slow fuck you are planning, but she has no idea how long it will take you this time. You've stopped by the store and picked your tools carefully for tonight. The purchase calculated to bring her closer to ecstasy.

To begin, you stroke the hair by her face, sweetly. She opens her eyes and smiles at you and you gently kiss her lips, barely able to keep your tongue away from hers. You take the little finger of your right hand and trace her lips as she laps a playful tongue at your hand. You let her touch it, but then withdraw and leave her openmouthed and panting. You trace a lazy finger along her nipples and tweak them for fun, smiling at the way they grow. You slip the satin sleepmask past her dark, thick bangs and onto her eyes, blocking all vision, keeping her from knowing where you are or what awaits.

You walk away from the bed and she moans slightly to call you back. This is exactly what you wanted, so different from the previous times you took her wildly. This is all about control. Your cock is semi-hard, just enjoying her desire, her exquisite suffering emptiness. Your need is not uncontrollable now. Not like it usually is, the hardness coloring everything you do.

You open a mahogany case lined with red velvet. In a gleaming, graduated line lay golden phalluses. The left side showcases the smallest dildo, only about three inches long and as slender as a pencil. You hold it in your hands and warm it. Feeling the pressure of your return to the bed, she moans again. She has been whimpering like a puppy the whole 10 seconds this has taken you and you know you have her ready. With your left hand, you stroke the outer lips, swollen and slick already. Perhaps you should have started larger, you think, but with your right, you slip you little finger into her, the small dildo awaiting its turn. She thrusts against your hand anxiously and you rotate the finger inside of her. Then, you quickly withdraw and shove the little gold object into her box. She knows something is different, but not what you have done. She relaxes again and you continue to push the little dick in and out, just to relax her. 

You stroke her thighs and kiss her belly before you return to the table. A purist might replace each one in turn, you think, but this is not your aim. This woman will be wide open for you in minutes. But you will set the pace.

You skip a size and move up to one that curves Slightly upward and is about six inches long, but still thin, about the circumference of a marker. You watch as she thrusts against the air with the little golden edge peeking out past her lips and hair and you admire the view, but not for long. You think you will ask her to finger herself while you watch, but later.

Swiftly, you exchange the first for the second one and she resists a little, feeling her lips stretched and her hole enlarged. You kiss her pussy to keep her wet and relaxed as you stroke her clit reassuringly. She cries out a little as you move the golden cock inside of her, all the way out, eventually, so that only the head is in, then all the way in, slowly, gently. You picture your own stiff cock sliding in those engorged lips. You imagine how hard you will have to push to get yourself fully in, and how that cunt will hold you like a hand as you try to withdraw. The image makes your cock jump and twitch, but you remind it to wait as you continue stuffing gold into this wet woman. In and out it goes and you love the sounds and the smells of this woman. Your devotion to making her yours is almost beyond your capacity to understand. 

A few more thrusts and you are ready to test her. For some women you know, this next one is the ideal. For her, it will be a formidable challenge. It is only 8 1/2 inches long and as wide as your own sweet piece. You have been generous enough to give yourself a few strokes and you hold this one next to yourself. Yes, you think. We must get her past this for me. She will have to open up more for me.

You return to the bed where she has turned belly down and has been squirming against the dildo. "Up," you say, but in a hoarse and tender whisper. She obeys, ass in the air, she turns her sightless eyes toward you, glancing, if she could, over her shoulder and sighs while you move the new dildo in and out of her again, this time with a sideways motion that opens her even more. You fondle her ass, running your hand over the alabaster skin. On a whim, you give her a hard, loving smack and see your hand appear red and bright on her ass. This turns you on, your mark upon her, and while she is distracted by this pain, you exchange the cocks inside of her. Underneath the mask, her eyes try to fly open as you slowly work the dick into her, but she doesn't make a sound. A tear trickles down her cheek from underneath the lace of her mask, but she thrusts back against it and you know she is ready to take it all the way as she moans gratefully. You notice her clean little asshole and think about running your tongue over it, but first things, first. That may be her reward later. She reaches for your hardening cock and you let her hold it for a minute, but then move so you can press this dildo into her more expertly.

In and out with a more regular rhythm now. She is feeling better and better and you can tell because she is matching you thrust for thrust. You are amazed a this woman, who seemed to be impenetrable, now groaning like a whore. You reach under her and stroke the hood of her clit and she increases her pace. Now, you think, take it out and plunge in. But you catch yourself and hold off entering her for one last toy.

This is a dildo that would make most women blanche. 11 inches. As thick as a tennis ball. Hard and unyielding. This is the one, you think. This will make her cry out for you in relief. 

Slipping out the wet dildo, you exchange it for three of your fingers. This drives her into ecstatic cries and your dick responds accordingly, fluid leaking from the head and balls tingling. You bring her to orgasm and then thrust your fingers into her mouth. She moans while she tastes herself on you. You move to thrust your dick into her mouth, but just for a few seconds. Leave her wanting more. . . 

You return to the business at hand and mouth. The largest one in your hand, warmed by your breath and skin, begins its journey home. You have to start it almost sideways, pressing gently, but persistently into her, you love to see the gold disappear inside her dark hole. You get the glans all the way in and think she will not take any more. She is wider open than any woman you have seen and this from a woman who has objected to anything larger than your tongue. She arches her back against your thrusting hand now and you are pushing more forcefully than before. Only now do you see the inch markers on the shaft. The ability to measure her depth almost makes you faint. You have no idea how much she can really handle, but now you will be able to measure. It is already at six inches, more than she thinks she can handle and while you turn her over onto her back, you press against it and manage the seventh inch. She is panting now, more of the dildo in her than out and you know she would faint if she knew how much was in her.

You begin to sense she might be ready for you now. Open wide, yet still not plumbed to the ultimate depth. That is an honor and pleasure all yours alone.

You move to kiss her thighs and begin slowly removing the golden cock. She whimpers a little as she feels it recede, but your tongue her clit and lips to keep her quiet and she moans this time instead. You move the phallus out, slowly and steadily, never letting go of her clit with your lips. The juices cover your chin and you know that thrusting all the way into her will not be a problem. She will feel something bigger and warmer and better than an army of golden dildos. She will get the one true treasure. Yours. Big and Rock Hard and Ready all the time.

In one swift movement, you remove the last few inches of the dick and she gasps to feel so empty, but you fix that. Without waiting, you plunge every single centimeter of yourself into her and she cries out your name and God's. You have never had a woman so hungry for your cock in her cunt and are amazed at the heat of it and the wetness of it and have to remind yourself not to come so quickly. She is wild now, almost out of control. She wraps her legs around your back and pulls you into her again and again. You kiss her full dark mouth and she slips her tongue into yours and comes against you, shuddering. You know in her state, one will never be enough, so you continue on. Five more hard deep sweeps and she emits one long and satisfied sigh after shivering. Now you know you can let go. You begin a light, fast stroke that gets you at your hardest. As the sperm fills your balls, you take a long deep breath and relax into the waves of orgasm that rock your body. The hair on your arms stands at attention and your skin burns before you too fall against your lover and feel the softness of her against your hardness.

Scattered around the bed, you see the shine and flash of the toys you have used on her. Your fellow lovers and helpers. She will put them away, in a line of graduating size, in their mahogany case, once you allow her to. Next time, she will bring them to you. Her pleasure, yours.

Opening Night



"Opening Night"

Per your written instructions, I've undressed and cleaned myself out thoroughly. I'm on the floor, ass in the air, kneeling on a towel with my knees spread widely apart. Laid out on the floor near my feet are two long rubber gloves and a brand new, but opened, tub of Crisco. At my head is a pair of headphones, an iPod, and a blindfold.

A few candles are flickering at the perimeter of the room, and you are sitting in a chair, slowly drinking your second (or third?) glass of champagne, planning and perhaps summoning the motivation from within to continue. You take a deep breath, drink down the last bit of Perrier Jouet and stand slowly. You are wearing a black corset, half bra and stockings with a garter and high heeled boots. You are also wearing a pair of black panties. Uncharacteristically, you have applied fairly heavy makeup. I believe in the darkness I can make out the onset of an evil grin. I notice that you are not wearing any jewelry of any kind.

You walk from your place, pacing gently around me as if a cat surveying its prey. You flex your fingers a few times and stretch. You seem a bit agitated, perhaps partly nervous about the role you are about to play, and partly angry that your desire to help me explore my fantasies has taken you to the point where, in a few minutes, you'll be helping me realize them by doing something deep down inside you really do not want to do, or do you??

You step away hesitating for a moment as if to make a final decision to proceed. You take a deep breath and from somewhere you withdraw a ½ mask and a rider's crop. You close your eyes and pull the mask over your face, once it is in position, you open your eyes, blink a few times, take a deep breath and a change seems to come over you. You are "in role" and there is no turning back. 

You playfully smack the palm of your hand with the crop and continue your survey of the scene. Before I can say anything you strike my butt twice, once on each cheek, with the crop and state the rules for this session. First, for safety, you give me clear instructions. "If you feel pain and like it, don't say anything. If you feel pain and wish me to be aware that it is nearing your threshold for tolerance, utter the word 'yellow'. If for any reason you wish to stop, say the word 'uncle' two times.  Do you understand?"

I say, "Yes."

You again strike my ass with the crop, and stroking my balls with the crop as if to be readying yourself to strike them, say, "From now on you will address me as 'Ma'am' and I will refer to you as 'slut.' Do you understand?"

I say, "Yes."

This time, without warning, the crop strikes me squarely on the balls. I double up in pain and say, "Yes... Ma'am!"

"That is better, slut," you say calmly. "You've been begging for me to jam my hand up your butt for quite some time. Now it is time for you to get what you claim you want. Hell, if I enjoy this, you might even become my little fist slut. Is this what you want?"

"Yes Ma'am."

"Yes Ma'am what?"

"Yes Ma'am, I want you to enjoy this so I can become your fist slut."

"What a slut," you utter.  "Now turn away, close your mouth, and follow my instructions exactly.  Do you understand?" Before I answer, you smack my ass several times with the crop and gently swing it up between my legs, striking my balls a little more gently than the last time.

"YES Ma'am," I say in a hurried voice.

"Good. Now, slut, put on the blindfold and kneel back down with your elbows on the floor."

"What about the headphones," I ask? Again the crop strikes my ass, my back and my balls.

You reply, almost angrily "You are the slut, and will do what I say, when I say it!"

"When will you learn that I am in control here?"

"NOW!" I say.

Again you swing the crop at my ass and balls.

"Now, who?"

"Now, Ma'am" I say in a quiet voice.

"Good. Now pick up the rubber gloves and pass them to me with your one at a time using only your teeth." 

I obey and make the mistake of raising my vision to look into your eyes when passing the first glove.

This time the crop strikes me squarely on my asshole five times, each buttock three times and once in the balls for good measure...

"You will not make eye contact with your Ma'am unless given permission to do so! Do you understand?"

I bow my head and quietly say "Yes, Ma'am."

"Good. Now pass me the other glove."

This time I am careful to keep my eyes lowered as I release my jaw allowing you to remove the glove from my teeth. 

You start to pull on the gloves...

"OK slut, let me tell you what I am going to do. You have one chance, this chance, to stop this right now. Otherwise the only way this stops is if you chicken out. I will be in complete control and will cause you pain or pleasure at my whim. You have been asking me to stick my fist up your ass for a long time. I'm tired of the droning, my little slut and it is now time for you to face the music."

You watch me shudder as your words sink in and I realize I'm about to get what I've been begging for you to give me. It's still surreal, and I know it won't seem true until your arm is buried wrist deep in my ass.

You wait silently until the shudder passes and continue, with emphasis, "I'm going to lube up to stretch your ass out and put my hand inside. MY WHOLE HAND." 

"And, as you've asked me to on so many occasions, I'm going to push it in as far as it will go, past the elbow if I can. The reason there are two gloves here is that I figure if one hand is good, two might be even better. We're going to see if I can stretch you out to where you'll take two of my fists at the same time, side by side, as deep as they will go. I may even let you cum if I want you to. We will see." 

A low moan escapes my lips, and I hear you chuckle to yourself, gratified that I am mentally peering into the abyss I've created for myself.

The gloves are on. You've flexed your hands a few times and are satisfied with the fit, and you reach down, pull a medium-size glob of Crisco out of the tub and start lubing both hands with a coating of the slimy goop.

As you kneel behind me, you say "Oh yes, my little slut, this will be fun. Actually, I've been doing some internet research on this, and although we might start things off gently, if all goes as planned, at some point I might even try what you sluts call 'punch fucking' just to see how much you can handle."

You instruct me to put on the headphones. I comply. This effectively puts us into two separate worlds – for me it is dark and quiet.

You press a control on the iPod and music begins to play. I am isolated from the world. I can see nothing. I can hear nothing but the music you have chosen for me.

You turn down the volume and speak, "can you hear me my little slut?"

I nod.

You lean over me, moving your mouth close to my ear. 

You say icily, "Well my self-proclaimed fist slut, I think so far, this has all been bold talk. Let's see just how much you can really take."

My cock betrays my excitement and starts to twitch. You reach under me and gently stroke my penis a few times then remove your hand. Before the pleasure of your strokes subsides you jerk your open hand upwards several times, slapping and punching my balls. I jerk from the impact but remain in position. Your actions make it completely clear that you are not messing around, and that this experience will be a mix of pleasure and pain as you wish to administer them.

You laugh for a moment, then get back to business. You tug on your gloves, stretching them up your arms nearly to the elbow. Reaching with your fingers into the Crisco can, you pull out another healthy handful, rubbing it all over both hands and arms. You also rub around my hungry hole, teasing with your fingertips, leaving a thick layer of the greasy lube over the entire area.

Withdrawing more Crisco from the tub, you apply a healthy dollop to my butt and push it inside with two of your fingers. You slowly twist and move them in and out, making sure I'm well lubed and that my ass is beginning to relax and stretch. You add a finger from your other hand, then two. Now you have two fingers from each hand inserted and you are pulling my ass open, stretching it for what is to come. As my asshole begins to relax and open for you, you add a third finger from each hand and continue stretching. You add more Crisco and then add a 4th finger from each hand, hooking your fingertips inside my ass, and pulling my hole ever farther open.

It is time.

You gently remove your fingers, apply more Crisco to one of your hands and hold your fingers so they form the shape of a bird's head – 4 fingers and a thumb, in formation.

You begin to insert your hand, pressing into me with firm but gentle pressure. The residual tightness of my ass resists your advances for a moment, then yields, allowing your entire hand in. You pause only briefly, then gently press deeper and allow your fingers to collapse into the shape of a loose fist. You begin to move, gently at first, in and out, occasionally twisting your hand, each time pressing deeper into me. Your fingers explore within me, seeking their path, moving ever deeper within my core. 

As play continues, you change strategies, making a tight fist and pulling your hand out so my ass is stretched to the maximum size of your fist, then plunging your hand back in – working deeper and deeper until your arm is buried in my ass all the way up to the elbow.

I whisper, "Harder."  You reward me by reaching between my legs with your free hand. forming a fist, and jerking your hand upward, punching me in the balls, reminding me silently that I am not in charge, not to talk, and that I am not allowed to feel anything that you don't want me to.

You respond by punch-fucking me internally, driving your hand as deeply and as forcefully into me as you dare, thrusting it with an in and out motion. At one point I am very nearly overwhelmed as you pull your hand all the way out, then form a firm fist and drive it back inside me, forcing my ass to make way for the intrusion. 

I start to drool.

For what seems an eternity, you continue in this manner - pulling almost all the way out, then driving in to elbow deep, pulling almost all the way out, then driving deep over and over. I am near delirious with the sensation, unable to think, not wanting it to stop.

I am awakened from my stupor by a sharp slap in the balls and the feeling of you dragging your clenched fist out of my ass. The pain in my crotch focuses my thoughts while the slow dragging stretch of your withdrawing fist makes me groan uncontrollably. My legs and arms give out, and I'm left as a puddle of quivering, pre-orgasmic flesh on the floor.

"Get back up into position, SLUT," you say, adding for emphasis "I'm not done with you or that slut hole you call an ass!"

I lift myself from the floor slowly, returning to my head-down kneeling position. My ass is so stretched that I swear I can feel cool air circulating in places not traditionally exposed to the atmosphere.

Without warning, you press your hand back inside me, driving the air out of my lungs with a whoosh and causing me to lose my breath for a moment. You again begin fisting my now-tormented hole with increasing intensity. You seem bored somehow, and I begin to wonder what is to come next.

Slowly, your movements change. You spend more time with your fist at the outer rim of my ass, slowly twisting your fist back and forth as if pondering your next move. This is not long lived though. This time you pull your hand out to wrist depth and add a few fingers from your other hand along side your forearm and slide them in, further stretching my abused ass. You add another finger, then another until you have a few extended fingers from one hand inserted alongside the wrist of your other hand. 

I do my best to relax, breathing deeply, allowing my asshole to accept this more-extreme stretch.

You decide the best strategy is to grip the forearm of your inserted hand with your other hand, then use the now-joined pair as a giant dildo – pressing deeper and deeper into my core. You start slowly, pressing until the second hand is barely in, then pull back, then forward a little deeper, then back, then deeper, until you have inserted the pair nearly to the elbow of the deeper arm. 

I arch my back, rotating my pelvis to afford you better leverage and a more natural angle of attack.

In response to my move, you withdraw your arms slowly then, with sudden force, drive your arms into me right to the hilt, slamming in and out for what seems like several minutes.

The stimulation is too much for me and my body starts a slow progression to a deep orgasm. For some reason, however, the combination of deep penetration and wide stretching holds off my final climax. You continue your onslaught, aware from my internal tremors that my condition has changed. My moaning betrays me and you continue pounding at my hole in a final frenzy.

You withdraw enough to retrieve your shallower hand and reach under me, milking my penis, while simultaneously applying stroking pressure to my prostate. It is too much for me to handle and I erupt, my semen collected on a plate you have secretly placed between my legs. You continue milking and stroking until you are certain the job is done then slowly release your grip on my penis and withdraw your hand from my rear. 

I exhale and relax as you remove the headphones from my head, and whisper in my ear, "One more thing, slut. You need to clean up after yourself." 

You lift my head slightly, sliding the plate underneath my chin. In a mildly condescending tone, you say "Clean your plate slut, or there will be no dessert."

I muster a response, "as you wish, Ma'am."



Opening Night



The gallery was bustling with people. Jess had a hard time wading through the sea of guests who've come to the art extravaganza that opened that night. The atmosphere of excitement was unmistakable. Wow, Conrad must be in cloud nine with the turnout, she thought as jostled her way to the office. Two days ago, the owner of the gallery frantically called for her help as most of the paintings to be shown had gotten mixed up during transit and wouldn't be able to arrive in time for the much-publicized opening. Her connections with the handlers, being an important long-time client of theirs, ensured overtime work, which fortunately resulted to the timely arrival of the goods but with a few hours to spare for installation.  

Alone in the empty office, Jess sat down on Conrad's table, opened a black box and began to sort the slides inside. Two weeks from now, it would be her show that's to open. A knock on the door broke the silence. Jess went to open the door and found herself staring eye to eye with a beautiful tall brunette. The woman took a slight step back, as if in surprise. Short cropped hair, big brown eyes, stylish white suit, strong chin, a mouth that seemed to hint a smirk. Jess was transfixed. 

The silence between them was electrifying. Neither moved. "You're not Conrad," she finally said, and before Jess could reply, the woman turned around and left. Jess was stunned as she watched the woman walk down the aisle. What the hell was that? Better yet, who the hell was that? On one hand she felt annoyed with this stranger's rudeness, on the other, she was intrigued. 

Okay, first things first, she reminded herself as she returned to the desk. She could hear the chatter outside slowly becoming subdued as the program was starting. After leaving her slides and a note on top of Conrad's table, she hastily went outside to listen to the talk. 

Entering the lobby area, she immediately spotted the woman she met earlier, standing at the back of the room with her arms folded. As all the seats were taken, Jess was forced to stand at the back as well, making a bit of an effort to keep her distance from the stranger. The woman slightly turned her head, then stared for a bit, which made Jess slightly unnerved at this woman's inexplicable hostility. She tried to concentrate on what Conrad was saying up in front, introducing the Brazilian artist group, but she was all too conscious of the other woman, as if the ten meters between them didn't exist. Every shift of weight, every clearing of throat the woman made did not escape Jess. Whenever she'd steal a glance, the woman would instantly look back, as if reading her mind, and give her a scowl. 

After a few more minutes, the solemnity of the talk took a break as a musical performance began. As the happy Brazilian tune raised some appreciative buzz from the audience, Jess decided it was time to go home and get rush some work to completion. Jess readjusted her bag, picked up the black box resting on the floor. As she turned to leave, she felt a hand take hold of her arm. She turned around and saw it was the woman, unsmiling and with a look that was both intimidating and annoyingly intimidating. Seeing her for the second time up close, Jess noticed the woman was pretty, if not handsome. You're not leaving, she stated in a gently but firm tone. As if it were a command not to be questioned. 

Jess was instantly furious at being told what to do, and by a rude stranger at that! She's had enough. With a scathing look, her eyes squarely bored at the woman's. She tried to shake off the hand, first discreetly then jerkily, but failed as the hold was gently but very firm. Just try and make a scene, the woman's eyes dared her, the corner of her lips curling into a smirk. 

People around them were starting to settle down again, as the second part of the symposium was to begin. Jess forced a smile and a wave as two or three people she knew from the audience said hello as they passed them by, while a hand continued to force her in place. What game are you playing? Get your hand off my arm, she whispered with the most venom she could muster. Although at the back of her mind, Jess was excited by the older woman's game. No response, the woman looked no different as if she were holding onto a chair.  

They now stood side by side at the back of the room, no one could see what was happening, which brought little comfort to Jess. As the Brazilian artists took stage and the talk commenced, the grip loosened. A fingertip traced her arm, gliding to her back and make its way to under her top. Jess gasped as the fingertip made slow circles at the small of her back. As her face turned pink, while the woman's face beside her showed no reaction, as if intently listening to the speakers. One fingertip became five explorers, feathering her back up and down, left and right, once in a while kneading the flesh of the waist. 

Jess tried to focus and not let the woman see how affected she was. Then the fingers started playing with the back of her pants, lining the tip of her butt crack to the farthest the finger reached under, up and down, up and down. Jess body stiffened. Then the fingers rested on the back zipper of her pants, poised to tug it down. Don't you dare, Jess mentally screamed. Bothered by slightly feeling aroused, Jess had enough of this humiliating nonsense and started to walk away. Only to bounce back to her original stand as the woman suddenly grabbed the backstrap of her brassiere. Shocked, Jess couldn't believe the outrageousness of what just happened-- she looked back furiously, and an unmistakable amusement flickered in the woman's eyes. To hell with it, let anyone who sees see it, Jess thought and violently jerked her body to release. This surprised the woman and left her no time to reach after Jess, who was by then halfway to the door. 

As she walked down the hallway to the restroom, Jess could feel her brassiere loosening up around her chest. Great, don't tell me the witch tore my bra. A bit disoriented because of what just happened, Jess was thankful to find the comfort room empty and gain her composure in peace. She entered a stall and removed her top to take a look at the damage. 

Unfortunately, there was a rip in the clasp. With a sigh, Jess stuffed the bra in her bag. She got out of her stall, studied her reflection in the mirror to see if going without it wasn't too noticeable.   

Oh, they won't mind, said a voice out of nowhere. Jess almost leapt in surprise. She didn't realize anyone was in there with her. Dread, excitement and anger washed over her as she saw the same woman who's been harassing her stand there so calmly, leaning against the wall near the sink, looking so calmly and a bit amused.  

What the hell do you want from me? Jess spat out. But the woman, with two lightning steps, immediately had Jess pinned against the wall with her hands holding Jess by the pelvis. Both women breathed heavily, their noses two inches apart, their bosoms mashed together. The heat between them rose to electrifying degrees. The woman closed her eyes and smiled. She tilted her head against the crook of Jess' neck, half-nuzzling and half-smelling the stretch of skin. Mmmm, purred her captor. 

Jess instinctively closed her eyes at this sensual assault as she bent her head forward, rolling it slightly against the woman's. Tell me you want to, the stranger whispered. Jess' brain suddenly cleared and remembered she actually must be fending herself from this attacker. With a quick twist of the wrist, a sharp slap was served across the woman's face. 

Surprisingly, it didn't anger the woman, but instead her smile widened. The hands that pinned Jess's pelvis instantly grabbed her wrists and held them on each side. Tell me you want it, she whispered again, peppering Jess neck and ears with kisses. As the woman began to gyrate against her, Jess could feel the pressure of her mound against hers, and it excited her. She could feel herself starting to get wet. 

Just tell me you want it, came the question again, this time, the woman stared into her eyes with all seriousness. Both were panting, the heaviness of each breath heightening the sex in the air. Jess hands were freed once more, as the woman rounded one hand to the small of her back and the other cupped her groin. Surrendering, Jess framed the woman's face with her hands and kissed her. 

As if a switch was turned on, the other mouth grew hungry in an instant, savagely claiming and asting her tongue and lips. Tongues were sucked, darting in and out as if it were raping each other, unmindful that their noses began to feel sore as it rubbed against each other too much. 

Jess felt light-headed, half-dizzy with such pleasure, forgetting where they were. All her focus was on the delicious body wanting to own her.  

As they kissed, Jess unzipped her pants, loosening it by the waist.Reading her cue, the woman slipped one hand inside. Give it, whispered Jess. Two fingers easily slipped into her hole. The woman held her close, connected her mound to the hand, sandwiching it between their pubic bones and began to thrust forward and upward. With each thrust, the fingers went in, filling Jess. Jess could feel the buttocks of the woman clench with each thrust and ground against her more. In and out, in and out, Jess rode the fingers with quickening pace. 

Hold it there, hold it there, she pleaded. In and out in and out, the fingers maintained their stiffness. With her every forward pelvic thrust, marked by sharp exhales, the woman began to quiver as well. She covered Jess mouth with kisses as the tremors grew in intensity, matched by the shaking of Jess's own body. Sweat mixed freely. Screams of both sides were muffled by the kisses and accented by gasps of pleasure. The shaking seemed unbearable, tremors turned to quakes as the woman repeatedly slammed Jess aganst the wall. 

Suddenly, both bodies froze in midair and closed their eyes from the blinding pleasure. Heat and tingles raced down their bodies, and a sudden cocoon of pleasurable tiredness enveloped them. 

Jess slumped against the woman in an embrace. Both were raggedly breathing. So will you at least tell me who you are? Jess asked. The woman turned to face her, Adrianne Ross-- I'll be handling your show next month. 



Opening Night



Some people might think being the coat check guy at the local theatre would be boring but it really can be quite fun. People watching has always been one of my favourite pastimes and there are few places better to do it than behind the counter at the coat check in a crowded theatre. Getting to watch free plays in not a bad perk either.

When I first started working here I would start to get bored just after the first intermission. Before the first intermission there were usually a few latecomers rushing in only to have to hang out at the concession stand, trying to explain to themselves or the concession girl why being late was not their fault. She and I would often exchange withering glances whenever the couples in question were distracted by the boxes of candy and mini-sized drinks.

After several weeks I began to leave my coat-hanger cubicle during the second act and talk to her about the latest couple and how they were just like all the others: being late for the play was always the other person's fault, the taxi driver's fault, or the most popular excuse, that babysitter who needs to buy herself a watch.

I remember one night while we were sitting in the upstairs lounge after closing, sharing a box chocolate covered mints, she looked at me as I was taking a drink from a mini sparkling water and said, "I like giving head." She said it was like she had commented on the weather but I had turned completely beet red. She popped a couple of candies in her mouth as she stared at me. "I really like giving head."

She had been so casual about it and so sensual at the same time that when she asked me what I liked it just slipped out. "I like fur and fuzzy clothes." She handed me the box of candies, lifted the drink from my hand and took a few sips.

"We're going to have fun," she said. "Lots of fun.

-

It was about two weeks later that she came over to my corner of the lobby after the masses had filtered back into the theatre to their seats for the second act.

"It looks like you have quite a mad rush on lozenges tonight," I said as she crossed her arms on my counter. "I guess cold and flu season hits even the well-to-do crowd."

"It's like I've always said - everybody enjoys a good suck once in a while." She raised her right arm from the countertop and rested her chin on her hand and smiled at me. "Don't you agree?"

I became very flushed and didn't know where to look. "I would imagine they do."

"Hey," she said, "did you see that woman in wearing the sable bandana?" 

How could I have missed her. When she came in tonight she was wearing the most exquisite sable coat with thick, thick cuffs. "Um, yeah, I guess," I said as casually as possible.

"Come on," she said, "we've worked together long enough - you don't need to be shy around me. Tell me you were watching her from the moment she walked in this evening."

I admitted I had. "She comes to see plays quite a lot. She's a good tipper, too."

"And she has the most fabulous wardrobe," she pointed out. "Every night she's come in since the fall she has worn either the most decadent sweater or the cutest fur." With that she stood up, opened the door to the coat check and walked in.

As she started rifling through the coats and hats on the racks I asked her half-jokingly, "Did you forget you coat, miss?"

"Maybe I did, maybe I didn't. Maybe I'm looking to update my wardrobe." She began to flip through the coats. "Where's my sable?," she said without looking over at me.

"What do you mean your sable?"

"You know," she continued "that lovely caramel-coloured floor length beauty with the monstrous cuffs and the extra wide collar."

Before I could tell her to quit fooling around I heard her voice from the back of the cloak room. "Got it," she said which she followed up with "Ooooh."

I went back to see what she was up to. She was wearing the coat. She was surrounded by the golden, honey-coloured hairs, wrapped up in the most fabulous fur that was a couple of sizes too big for her.

"How do I look?," she asked as she unfolded the collar and rubbed it against her cheeks. "'Cause I feel magnificent!" She spun around a few times in the cramped room, the fur brushing up against the other coats hanging in the aisle. She stopped and looked at the mirror in the far corner. "Give me a hand with this," she said as she pulled the mirror away from the wall. "I want to look at myself in better light."

I was too awestruck to disagree with her. She did look incredible in the coat, and the fact that she was having so much fun wearing it was such a turn-on. When we put the mirror against the back wall she took a couple of steps back towards my counter, turned around, and examined herself, running her fingers through the plush coat as she swayed from side to side.

"You should get back to your post, you know." She walked over to me and brought her fur-covered hands up to my face. "You should keep watch in case anyone comes looking for their toque and mittens." She took me by the hand and led me to my counter and stroked my face again. "You should keep watch."

She bent down and crawled underneath the counter and sat straddling my calves. Before I could say anything she had undone my belt, slipped off my pants and was rubbing my penis through my boxers with the plump sable cuff. I could feel the guard hairs flit across my cock as they worked their way up and down the fly of my underwear. Her arms wrapped around my legs and she slid them slowly up towards my waist, and when her fingers slipped under the band of my boxers she dragged them off as slowly as she could, the fur inching down my bare legs.

"Do you like my coat?," she whispered from under the counter.

"Very much," I moaned as she began brushing my penis with both cuffs. Up and down the length of me, stroking my balls and the insides of my thighs. In between caresses she would flick her tongue across my foreskin and around the head of my cock, sometimes sucking me into her mouth while shaking the sable over the base of my penis. 

Both cuffs were gliding up and down my quivering sex again in a steady, slow tempo. "Tap on the counter three times when you are going to cum," she said. "We can't have all your giz on this lovely fur, now can we?"

She rolled the fur all around my cock and every once in a while she would suck the pre-cum from its tip. It took everything I had to keep my knees from buckling as she shook the sable over my stretched skin - quickly, slowly, and quickly again and again. I had never felt anything so decadent. I must have let my eyes wander and didn't notice as one of the east doors to the orchestra seating opened, was held for a moment, and eased back into its frame.

"You look bored." The woman's voice startled me.

I turned my head and saw that it was the woman whose sable was now being mounded around my cock, massaging it, coaxing from it a steady stream of speed drops.

"Not at all." I surprised myself by actually being able to speak. "It's such a great old theatre I just love looking at it." The stroking of my cock had slowed a bit but soon began to resume its swift and steady pace.

She stood in front of me and looked over my shoulder briefly. She slipped off her sable headband and looked at it.

"I was wondering if you could put this with my coat." She twisted it in her hands as she spoke, folding and unfolding it a couple of times. "It's getting a bit warm and I didn't want to keep in my lap for the entire night."

"No trouble at all," I said. "The heating can be a but unpredictable in here sometimes." "Thank you," she said. "Do I need a new claim ticket?"

"No, that'll be fine. I'll just put it over the hanger with your coat."

She passed the headband to me and as I started to take it from her she grabbed my wrists and slowly closed both my hands around the fur.

"Are you sure you are going to know which coat to put this with?," she asked, staring right into my eyes. "I mean, I would hate to lose it."

My face flushed a bit.

"You don't have to worry about a thing. I know exactly where your coat is." My pre-cum must have been gushing out of me because I felt a bare hand around the head of my penis, jerking me in slow and slippery strokes, all the while I could feel the sable cupping and fondling my balls.

The woman at the counter began to move my hands over the fur. She never stopped looking at me.

"I guess my coat does stand out, doesn't it." A gentle smile appeared on her lips. "You know, you wouldn't believe how many people comment on how great it looks on me. They're always saying, 'Wow, it must be so warm,' or 'It's looks so soft. Could I touch it?'" 

Her hands were moving mine over the band of sable as she was talking to me and I could feel my finger tips push deep into the fur, the guard hairs working their way through the spaces between my fingers. 

My face felt hot and I had to brace myself on my elbows in order to keep standing before her. The fur was wrapped around the base of my cock, her hand gripping it tightly as she tugged on me in short, quick strokes. Her thumb was working my foreskin with unrelenting swirls, pushing into the soft tissue and squeezing out more and more lubrication from deep inside me.

"Can I tell you something?," she asked.

I had been looking around the foyer to see if anyone else was wandering the halls, heading to the washroom, and when I focused my eyes back on hers I could see that she was looking at the back of the cloak room again.

"Yes," I stammered.

"The truth is," she said, not making eye contact as she spoke, "that my softest coat is my Russian lynx belly." She paused and stared right at me. "Whenever I put that coat on I get so lost in it. The fur is so deep, and the way it sways in the wind it looks like it is trying to devour me as I walk down the street."

I could feel the orgasm about to burst from me but I couldn't pull my hands from hers to tap on the counter. She was moving our hands over the sable bandana in slow, wide circles. My eyes began to well up at the sheer ecstasy of what these two women were putting me through.

"I've had men press up against me in elevators just so they could run their hands over my coat. They think I don't notice but I can always tell when someone is taking pleasure from my furs." She squeezed her hands firmly around mine and held them still. "Do you think I should wear it for the next play I come to so you can see just how fluffy and soft it is? You would probably need to make extra space for it on the racks - it's just a monster of a fur."

I couldn't stand it any longer. I started cumming. As the first shot squirted from my cock we both heard a startled but gentle "Oh!" from under the countertop, and then a satisfied "mmmmm" as my penis was engulfed by her warm and fervent mouth. She wrapped her sable-covered arms around my thighs and stroked my bare skin with the exquisitely soft fur, pushing it slightly into the crack of my ass.

My penis could barely keep up with her sucking; her tongue cupped and enfolded my shaft and coaxed out every twitch of my cock. I was so deep inside her mouth I thought she was ready to swallow my balls. When my orgasm subsided she tenderly released her grip and dragged her pursed lips down the length of my shaft, sucking at its head a few times to clean me off.

I could feel a hand on my face and realized that only my hands were clutching the sable headband. She was wiping away a tear from my eye, and when I looked at her she had such an air of sensuality about her.

She pulled her hand from my face and placed them back on my hands as I kneaded the fur that was wrapped around my fingers.

"Do me a favour?"

I nodded, still half in my trance.

"Put the mirror back in the same spot next week. I really enjoyed the view." 



Opening Night: Act 02



Tuesday night again and she kept her promise. It was about twenty minutes before the curtain call when I saw her come in the double-doors. She didn't walk through them; she flooded into the foyer. Her coat was as magnificent as she had said. The long, light-coloured lynx fur swayed as she waved her arm at a group of friends near the staircase. She was quite sociable, making her way through the crowd with kisses on cheeks here and there. 

As I watched her hug a male friend of hers I wished it were me within her grasp. Her oversized coat appeared to gobble up her acquaintance when she wrapped her arms around him, and as his fingers explored the deep, yielding fur I half-expected him to disappear forever within the lush pelts, devoured like he had stumbled forward into the maw of a huge, fluffy beast that was going about the lobby happily and eagerly sucking people off their feet and into its supple belly.

I looked away and saw that my girlfriend was already staring at me from behind the concession counter. Her eyes bulged and she mouthed 'Oh my God!' My eyes went from her to the woman in the lynx belly coat and back to her again. She winked at me. I couldn't wait to hang up that gorgeous sheath of fur.

With only about ten minutes to go until the final curtain call there was a mad rush of people throwing their coats, jackets, and hats across my counter, and space on the racks was becoming scarce. After hanging up a few trench coats at the back of the cloak room, I turned the corner and found myself staring at my ticket counter and at the luscious fur that had been sweeping through the foyer a few minutes earlier.

"Looks like you might be tight for space back there," the woman said, resting her head on her hands as she leaned on the counter. "Do you think you will be able to squeeze this in there or should I take it with me to my seat?" She smiled as she rubbed the sleeves of her coat, emphasizing just how bulky it really was.

"I have a special place reserved for larger items," I said, trying to be as casual as she was. "You have nothing to worry about."

She slipped off the massive fur and pushed it across the counter towards me. "I'm sure you'll be able to find just the right spot for it." She looked towards the back of the cloak room as I tore off her receipt from the spool of vouchers. "Oh look," she said, "it's my favourite mirror." And with that she grabbed her claim ticket, spun around and headed for the last of the open entrances to the theatre. I was still standing behind my counter holding onto the exquisite coat, kneading it as the door closed behind her.

I stared at the colossal fur that was gathered in my arms. It seemed shapeless, as if it were just a mass of fur that was spilling over my arms like caramel-coloured taffy. I found the centre of the collar and held up the coat so it would not drag along the floor on its way to the back of the coat check. When I walked the fur bounced and the soft, plush hairs puffed through the open spaces in the front of my shirt. I wanted nothing more than to take it around the corner, drop my pants and bunch up this glorious coat around my penis and stroke myself wildly.

"I've come to collect my coat," a voice called from my counter. I heard the partition raise and lower and looked around the corner to see my girlfriend skipping down the short hallway to the back of the cloak room. She headed right for the lynx coat.

"I forgot my ticket but I think I might be able to convince you to give it to me." She pushed me into the corner, put one hand behind my neck, pressed the other into my crotch, and kissed me deeply. "I'll prove it's my coat, sweetness. I'll put it on and you'll see just how perfectly it fits me. It'll be like Cinderella and the glass slipper, except I won't act like a princess."

She pulled the coat off its hanger and put it on. It was enormous on her. When she flipped the collar up the fur went above her ears and just barely left her mouth and eyes visible.

"It feels like there's room for both of us in here," she said, running her hands up and down the front of the coat. "Do you want to climb in here with me?," she asked walking slowly towards me. "Maybe I could just carry you around in one of my pockets. I could stuff one of the sleeves in there and you could hump my fabulously furry wrist all day." 

"It would be like a fetish version of Attack of the 50 Foot Woman, although I doubt any men would be running away from me. I could walk through town picking little men off the street and drop them into the folds of my coat." She waved her arms through the air and growled like she was pretending to be a monster from a B movie.

"You know, if I were fifty feet tall then the fur on this coat would be about three feet thick." She gathered up the cuffs of the thick fur and plunged them into the pockets, cooing as she did so. "How quickly do you think three feet of lynx fur could drain you of all your cum, lover?"

She pressed up against me and I fondled the immense coat, my hands twitching as they danced over the fur. "Pretty quickly," I said as I groped the lavish coat. I was so enthralled by the thick, opulent hair flowing around me that I didn't notice that she had pulled her hands out of the pockets and was unfolding a small piece of paper.

"Are you handwriting your claim tickets these days?," she asked as she smoothed out the paper between her fingers.

"No," I said, and as I saw that she was reading what was on the cream-coloured piece of paper I tried to grab it from her. "Give me that! That's not yours. What if it's personal?" 

She turned her torso and pushed her fluffy shoulder into my chest and as she finished reading she folded the paper in half and handed it to me.

"It's personal, my sweet. Very personal."

I hadn't even begun reading and she was already kneeling before me. My pants dropped to the floor, the sleeves of the coat stuffed up the legs of my boxers. The blond fur flooded all around my cock, and her thumbs were lightly stroking my foreskin. I gasped and felt the blood rush to my face.

"Read it to me."

"Wh-what?," I stammered. 

I looked down to see her staring up at me, the enormous collar and shoulders of the magnificent lynx were puckered around her face. It was like an immense furry mouth had sucked her in and then let her head breach its lips while rolling her body over its tongue. Her hands were moving slowly and methodically under the grey cotton of my boxers; the movement of the fur never stopped, and to watch the shifting of the bulky sleeves in my underwear was just as arousing as the sensation of the plush pelts that tickled my smooth, taut flesh.

"Read the note to me." Her fingers were wrapped around my cock and had begun to lightly jerk me off. "I want to make sure that I understood what it said."

I looked at the note and read it aloud.

'I might forget to pick up my coat this evening. In case I do, I have written my address below. I will be home on Thursday around eight o'clock. Please take good care of my baby until then.'

When I had finished reading, she told me to sit. I shuffled over to the chair in the back corner and as I sat down she slid off my boxers.

"We're going to have a lot of fun for the next two days," she said without taking her eyes off my trembling penis. "I doubt either of us will be able to walk properly come Thursday." She turned her head sideways and gave my shaft a deep, wet kiss, sliding her mouth up and down its length as she flattened her tongue over my sex. My hips thrust forward uncontrollably at the skill of her mouth. I could feel the lynx filling in all of the bare spaces between my legs, my balls, as she shifted her weight back and forth.

She lifted her mouth from my cock and, without looking at me, said: "Grab hold of the collar and pull me towards you, sweetness."

I only realized then that I was still holding onto the piece of paper she had found in the pocket. I let it fall to the floor and moved my hands to touch her face, running my fingers through her hair and the coat.

"Tell me to fuck you with my mouth." I looked down to see she was staring so intently into my eyes, yet crouching before she looked so submissive.

"Fuck me," I whispered to her. "Fuck me with your incredible mouth."

Her chin had already dropped and I could see the saliva pooled on her tongue when I seized the full collar and drew her into my lap. The act was seamless; her lips slid down to the base of my cock and her arms draped along the sides of my thighs. She gripped my ass and pulled me into the folds of the thick fur. I released my grasp of the collar and let my hands fall, resting on the sleeves, stroking them as her mouth and tongue slithered up and down my penis, gorging on me. 

With each caress of my hands I became more and more lost in her throat. My fingers were buried in the fur, the pile was so thick I could only make out the backs of my hands when I glanced down. The massive collar mimicked her oral endeavors, kissing my balls and the insides of my thighs at each plunge of her mouth. I wrapped my legs around her back, pushing my heals into her ass. She was just a mound of fur beneath me; every part of my body below my waist gently swayed back and forth against the oversized lynx coat.

My breathing quickened as her mouth drifted over my sex, my hips flinching as she pushed me towards my climax. Her movements were so fluid and effortless - the only sounds I could hear was my panting and the hushed, slow rustling of the fur. I watched her descend and rise in my pelvis and if I had had the strength I would have pulled my hands out of the deep mound of tan hairs that encircled, delighted, cuddled my legs and crotch and placed them behind her head and fucked her eager mouth.

She started bobbing up and down with short, rapid strokes, squeezing her lips and tongue tighter around the head of my cock. I buried my left hand in the plush, cream and white collar and pulled it into my lap. She wrapped her right hand around the base of my cock and jerked me ferociously. I held my breath and leaned my head against the wall. I could feel my orgasm swell up inside me, pause slightly, and as I dropped my hands to clutch her bulky, supple sleeves, it spurt against the back of her throat. 

With each twitch of my cock, each stream of cum, she raised her head and plunged my sex completely into her mouth. Her tongue flexed and flattened across my foreskin, coaxing the last drops out of my engorged head, using the slightest bit suction she kept my shrinking cock warm in between her luscious lips.

When I had withered completely, exhausted, and all that I could feel was the hollow ache in my crotch she pulled her lips from around my flesh and gingerly let my penis slump across my balls.

"Thursday is going to arrive too soon, don't you think?" She laid her head down on my thigh and I pushed my right hand into the deep folds of the coat that was bunched around her shoulder and neck. "Much too soon."

-

The taxi pulled up in front of the townhouse and came to a stop right under a streetlight. So much for being inconspicuous, I thought. We slipped out the left side of the cab, the coat folded, spilling over her arm.

We climbed the short set of steps to her door and stood there looking at the buzzer and then at each other.

"What are we supposed to say?" She blushed. "'Hi, we've finished fucking each other in your coat and wanted to bring it back.'?"

I laughed nervously, peered up at the light coming through the windows, and back at her as she fumbled with the coat in her arms. "I don't know. Let's just push the button and see what happens."

The buzzer had a gravelly sound to it, and the speaker popped when I released the button. While we waited for an answer, we tried our best to act casual as we looked up and down the street. Even though it was a chilly night we had only worn light jackets. Anyone walking by on the sidewalk would have wondered why she wasn't wearing the gorgeous fur coat she had draped over her clasped hands.

"Come in," the voice said. "Leave your shoes in the foyer and come up to the second floor."

The speaker buzzed and the lock clicked open. The large wooden door swung easily on its hinges and we stepped into the warmly lit lobby. Music quietly filtered down from the floor above, and after slipping off our shoes and hanging up our jackets we headed up to where the muffled notes were coming from carrying the chubby lynx coat.

The space on the second floor was mainly white and had been decorated quite sparingly. The main living room was at the front of the building and had floor-to-ceiling windows which were covered in patterned semi-transparent drapes. The kitchen was towards the back of the house and was partially separated from the living room by a narrow partition wall. As we looked around we saw her pouring some sparkling water into the last of three glasses.

"I'm so glad you decided to drop by," she said as she walked to the living room carrying the drinks. "I didn't know if you would find my note or not." She smiled at both of us as she put down the tray on the glass-topped coffee table.

"Is that getting heavy?," she asked, nodding at the fur.

"I'm okay," my girlfriend said. We both looked for a place to hang it up. "Would you like us to put it somewhere?"

"Let's go put it in my closet," she said as she walked over to us. Touching my shoulder she gave us both a once-over with her eyes. "But only if you think you're finished with it."

I felt myself blush, and before I could think of anything to say I heard my girlfriend say: "I don't think he would ever be finished with it."

"I'm actually surprised he let you out of it having watched you perform in my sable." She put her hand in the small of my friend's back and gently turned her towards the stairs. "Let's go find a good home for this, shall we."

They headed up to the third floor leaving me in the living room by myself. A few car horns beeped on the street below as I looked around the room, finally settling on the couch, skimming over the covers of the various magazines that were on the glass table where she had put the tray with our drinks. The fall editions always had the best photos and I could see that this pile of magazines would definitely have something to keep me occupied while they were upstairs.

I had flipped through at least four or five tantalizing issues when I heard my girlfriend call my name from the third floor. I closed the magazine and walked to the base of the stairs.

"Yes?" Are we getting in trouble?, I thought. I made sure we didn't get any cum stains on this coat.

"Could you come upstairs? We're having a bit of a debate and need another opinion."

I walked up the stairs and could see that the entire top floor was her bedroom. It was decorated as simply and tastefully as the rest of the house and as I walked towards the voices at the end of the room I just had to run my hand over the incredibly plush mohair throw that was draped across the back of a lounger. I had never seen or felt mohair that thick. 

As I walked past the chair I looked back to make sure that I didn't leave any finger tracks in the pile and also just to stare at the lush grey wool. I lifted my hand to my face and tried to smell any scent I might have brushed off the mohair. It would not have taken me long to cum jerking off with that fuzzy blanket wrapped loosely surrounding my cock. If I had been alone I am sure I would have had it coiled around me, the soft folds of mohair draped around my neck and spilling over my belly and between my fingers.

"Where are you?," I called out.

Our hostess popped her head out of a doorway at the back of the room on the left. "We're down here in my closet talking girl-talk." She raised her hand and motioned with her index finger for me to walk to her. "Don't be shy, we won't bite." She winked and retreated back through the doorway.

As I walked through the door I saw the lynx belly fur swaddling an easy chair, embracing it with its thick sumptuous arms, like it was leaning back, relaxing. The lights had been dimmed but I could easily make out our hostess and my girlfriend standing in front of the many furs hanging along the far wall. My girlfriend was flushed and had a wild look in her eyes, yet in spite of her demeanour she seemed to be pressing up against our furry benefactor, flinching as she moved her hand from her shoulder to her waist.

"I have to be honest," our hostess said to me when I stopped a few feet from them, "our girl-talk was about you and your predilection."

My eyes must have popped out of their sockets because she raised her hand and said "It's okay. You must know by now that you're not the only man who likes furs and fluffy clothes on a woman." She indicated to the various racks and glass cabinets that surrounded us and as I followed her gesture I finally saw what filled her closet to capacity: full length furs; chubbies and fur hats; piles of tremendously fuzzy sweaters; fur-topped boots; marabou in many shapes and sizes.

"Personally, I love the feel of all this," she said as she watched me soak in the vastness of her collection, "but what really turns me on is how I make men react when I wear my collection in public. I especially enjoy trying to elicit responses from the men who seem to care the least about what I am wearing." She turned to my friend and put her hand on her forearm. "Those are the men who lust after my outfit the most."

She was looking back at our hostess with her distant, entranced stare. "Don't you mean the men who lust after 'you' the most?"

"In some cases yes, but it's usually what I am wearing that has them picturing me in any number of carnal situations. Their preoccupation is with my sweater or fluffy skirt - all they want is to run their hands over my puffy attire as they cum inside of me; whether it means bending me over a table and staring at their hands as they stroke the back of some thick, lovely mohair sweater, or feeling the guard hairs of that golden island fox coat surround them as I suck on their necks, fucking them wildly in the lounger in my bedroom. All they really want is to be groping something fuzzy when they cum so they can imagine ejaculating into whatever pile of hair has their attention at that moment." 

She squeezed my friend to make add to her point. "All these men want is to have some bulk inside of their favourite fetish wear to give it shape and to give them some place moist to ejaculate into. Me, I just love the control my fluffy wardrobe choices give me over them. The way men look at me or hold onto my arm that little bit longer when I am all dressed up. Sometimes me and my hairy apparel can even have that same effect on women. That's when I know I am wearing something truly beguiling."

I was glad the lights were down because I could feel my penis throbbing in my pants as I listened to her.

She walked over to me and took me by the hand and lead me to where my friend was standing. "What do you think, lover? Do you lust after the outfit or the woman in the outfit?"

I was blushing so much it seemed like my head was going to explode but I figured there was no point in holding back now that everything was out in the open. "I guess it all depends on how the woman acts; if she is at ease with what she is wearing and if it suits her personality then the I am attracted to the woman and what she is wearing is a bonus."

"Did my lynx coat suit your girlfriend's personality?"

She had moved and I could see that she was pressed up against the glass doors where the sweaters were. "Very much."

"So when you see a fur hat or a fluffy sweaterdress in a store do you want to jerk off with it or do you want her to wear it so you can cum inside her while she is wearing it?"

"I want it to be a part of our lovemaking. I want to be able to see her wearing it, to see her enjoy it and to feel it on me while I am inside her."




Opening Night: Act 02



She leaned over to me and whispered in my ear loud enough for my girlfriend to hear. "Then I think it's time we got her out of those clothes and into something more appropriate to her personality, don't you think?"

My penis swelled again as her breath flowed across my neck. I must have closed my eyes and tilted my head because I suddenly found myself staring at her just a few inches from my face.

"Mmm," she said, "I think we've discovered another weakness. How delightful." She took me by the hand again. "Come, help me undress her."

My girlfriend didn't move as we started undoing her top, slipping off her jeans and underwear. She squirmed a little as our hostess's hands slid down the backs of her thighs, pulling her panties to the floor and under her feet, but didn't try to move away. She stood before us, completely naked, her hands by her sides.

"Even like this you have a certain confidence." Our hostess turned her gaze to me. "But I think we need to turn her into some scrumptious eye candy. Open that door," she said to me, "and pull out the silver fox fur hat."

I went to the door she was pointing to and opened it. I couldn't believe my eyes. At first it look like the cabinet was filled with fur, tightly packed on hangers and stacked high all folded very neatly but as I reached in to find the item she wanted I felt mohair and angora, so incredibly soft and thick around in my hands, between my fingers. 

"You can take your time." Her voice was low and just as soft as the mass of knitting I was staring at and fingering it. "Maybe you will find something to borrow for when you leave." She stood beside me and reached into the pile of fuzzy clothes. "Like this, for instance."

She pulled out a mass of black mohair, unfolded it, and revealed a thick catsuit and held it in front of me. Even in the dimly lit closet I could make out just how fully brushed the wool was, and when she pushed it onto my torso the fine hairs seemed to hug my chest and crotch and slowly wafted up to my neck.

"I had this knitted for me by a woman in Europe a few months back. You know, it's amazing what you can find for sale on the internet. The best angora comes out of the States, but for the best mohair you need to go to Europe." She showed it off to my girlfriend and me.

"This lovely piece could work for either of you - the rolls of this collar can extend over her head and will leave a small hole for her mouth to show through, and if you look between the legs there's another slit in another most convenient spot. It would be like getting fucked by a huge skein of the best mohair your cock could endure. Can you picture a faceless mass of fluffy and beautifully scratchy wool sitting on you, bouncing in your lap and coaxing you to cum inside it?"

She turned the catsuit around and held it across her own chest with one hand while the other slid down to the crotch.

"Or, if you wanted to wear it, you could poke that swelling bit of flesh of yours through this hole as she licked you into oblivion. I can just see it now: you laying on your back, her sucking you off and everywhere your hands went on your body they would feel this chubby little thing? Personally, I don't think you would be able to hold out for very long." 

She shoved the suit into my hands as she spoke and I gasped involuntarily. I looked down at the pile of fluff in my hands. The fine hairs spilled over the backs of hands and I slowly moved my fingers through the wool, squeezing it in my hands and rubbing my forearms with it. It was impossible to tell the gauge of the yarn because it was so fuzzy. I unconsciously massaged the outfit while looking for a place to put it and all I could feel was fuzz; it felt like it was being held together by its thickness alone, like it had grown into its shape from nothingness, and kept its form in spite of my pawing at it.

"But enough about you, let's find that hat, shall we?" She fished through the stack of headwear and gently lifted a piece out of the closet. "Here we are." 

She held it in her open palms. The fur was thick and dark, and even though the hairs were long they stood straight up and out giving the hat the appearance of being about three times bigger than it should have been. She held it out to me.

"Here, I should let you do the honours."

I dropped the catsuit and, despite its bulk, it didn't make a sound when it hit the floor. I took the deep silver hat from our hostess and she whispered me to put it on my girlfriend. The fur in my hands was so dense, and as I placed it on her head I imagined my hands running over the fur as her head bobbed in my lap, the silver hairs brushing up and down my belly in time with her sucking. I envisioned looking down to watch her devour my cock only to see the enormous hat enshrouding my crotch and stomach.

"Don't get to carried away now."

We both turned to see our hostess sitting in the chair, leaning into the lynx fur. She was watching us intently. She nodded to my girlfriend.

"Bring him over here. You know, if he's going to be any good to us we'll have to get him out of those clothes."

I gladly walked in the direction my girlfriend was pushing me; I had no idea what was going to happen in that fluff-filled closet but I knew I was willing to let it.

"You deal with everything above his waist and I'll take care of everything below it."

They very quickly had me down to my underwear, and I needed no coaxing to lift my feet to let my socks and boxers slide off and get tossed to the corner.

"Ooh, I can see why you like his cock in your mouth. It looks so eager and it's just the perfect size." She looked up at me from the fur-draped chair. "What is it that you like about blowjobs?"

My girlfriend was pressed up against my back and had put her hands around my waist. I could feel her breasts slide across my shoulders. "I like how the lips and tongue perform together, changing pressure and speed constantly. And when I cum it just feels different than if I were having intercourse. Being sucked off is like having someone pull the orgasm from me and into her. It's like having someone swallow part of my soul."

Our hostess had sat up in the chair and had her hands resting on my girlfriend's forearms. She drew me closer to her chest and I could feel her breath on my belly. "Is she good at sucking you off?"

"Yes," I said quietly. My girlfriend put her head on my back, the fur hat stroking my shoulders and neck, and moved her arms around my chest and held me tight. My penis twitched as the fur swept across my back.

"Do you think she could teach me?" As she looked up at me from the chair, the lynx almost pouring all around her, she brought her hands from my waist and fondled me gently. I barely heard myself when I spoke. "I don't know."

"Would you like her to try to teach me?"

"I don't know."

"Well, she and I talked before you came up here and she said she would if you wanted her to." Her fingers moved lightly over my penis and under my balls. "So. Would you like her to teach me how to suck you dry?"

"Yes. Please, yes."

She squeezed my cock firmly. "Good answer." She stood up and turned me around to sit in the chair. She leaned over me and reached down to the side of the chair. "Lean back slowly," she said.

I put my hands on the armrests, pushed my weight into the back of the chair and it slowly tilted backwards.

"I don't know about you, but there are times," she said as she stood up, "when I just want to relinquish control and let myself become someone's instrument of pleasure." She paused and stared at the two of us and then cupped her hands around my friend's face. "I want you to dress me up and tell me exactly how I should suck him off, tease him, and I want you to tell him how to touch me; to tell you what it feels like to be inside my mouth and what I feel like in his hands."

"Okay," she said in a soft murmur. She undressed our hostess with a delicate proficiency, and as each piece of clothing fell away she examined her contours with her eyes and her fingertips.

*

continued in Opening Night - Curtain Call.



Opening Night: Act 03



Act 03: Curtain Call

As I watched them in the muted light I gripped the lynx in my hands. Visions of my girlfriend disappearing inside the enormous coat ran through my mind and it took all my strength not to gather up the fur and masturbate as the two women swayed before me. I could have easily pulled one of the arms of the coat inside out and slipped it over my cock as I watched them enjoy their elegant foreplay. Quick, deep thrusts right down to my balls, I wouldn't have been able to stop myself from cumming into the plush, furry sleeve.

"You should find something in one of those closets," she was telling my girlfriend, pointing to the set of doors to my right. "Maybe you should open the doors nice and wide so he can see what treat he could be in for."

She pulled open the opaque glass doors and stepped towards the shelves. From where I was sitting I could see several full length angora gowns, mohair and angora mittens, and some knitted fur scarves. My girlfriend moved her hands across the hangers, examining the assortment of knitwear, and then reached in and slid something thick and white out of the collection of fluffy items.

She turned and held an enormous mohair poncho in front of her chest. It looked incredible. It was so brushed out that the fibre was about three inches thick, and the cowl neck, which had been rolled over several times, scooped down to where the outline of her breasts showed through. Anyone wearing it would look like they were a walking cloud of swaying, wispy fur.

"Why did you choose that?," she asked my girlfriend.

"Because when you're going down on him the roll neck will cup his balls beautifully." She walked over to our hostess and slid the poncho over her head. "He's going to beg to cum in your mouth." 

As soon as the poncho fell into place, our hostess grabbed my girlfriend by her arm and the back of her neck and kissed her deeply. Their faces disappeared in the mass of mohair and silver fox. My girlfriend was startled by the speed of the act and for a moment her hands fumbled over the mohair, not knowing where she should put them. Finally she slid them under the fuzzy white collar and pulled it up the back of her kisser's head.

When they separated, my girlfriend stood there for a moment with her eyes closed and her mouth slightly open. She licked her lips and gazed at our hostess.

"Kneel in front of him."

She didn't speak, she simply turned around walked the couple of steps to the chair. I could feel the plush mohair waft over my thighs before she started to bend her knees. My penis twitched at the promise of being slid into her mouth and tickled by the bulky white hair of her poncho. She stepped a bit closer as she knelt down and the fluffy expanse of wool skimmed deftly over my legs. I gripped the lynx fur in anticipation.

"Make your tongue stiff and cover it in saliva and outline the length of his shaft from the base to the tip."

When she moved her head down and in towards my crotch the immense collar rubbed the insides of my thighs, and as her warm tongue slithered up my tense cock it settled in behind my balls and lifted them ever so tenderly into the opening of the poncho.

"Again."

I looked over at my girlfriend standing by the closet. She relished in the control she had over our hostess and over me. She smiled softly and whispered "Again."

I cried out as the mohair churned between my legs and grabbed the fluffy shoulders before me.

"What does it feel like?," she asked from beneath her colossal fur hat.

"So soft," I managed to say amid gasps. "Oh god, it's so soft!"

She stared at the head slowly bobbing up and down in my lap and then at me.

"Without stopping, flatten your tongue and make it at flaccid as possible. Turn your head sideways so that your lips are over the sides of his penis."

Her head kept moving, and her mouth never left me. As she turned I could feel her breasts brush over my thigh and her mohair-draped hands move under my legs.

"Now, pretend you are licking the mustard off of a hot dog."

I groaned as her lips and tongue danced over me.

"Faster. Lick him faster."

The only sound I could hear over my staggered breathing was the frantic slurping as she followed her instructions. She lifted her right hand from underneath the dense poncho, placed it behind my cock and pressed it firmly to her sopping mouth. Her tongue lapped at my flesh and I could feel her warm saliva flow down my aching penis.

My hands tugged at the mohair that spilled over my legs and I leaned back in the chair, grunting as she moved up and devoured my foreskin.

"When you get to the base of his cock I want you to straighten your head, stick your tongue out and slowly drag it right up to the tip of his cock."

Her mouth turned and her tongue stretched out; her breath was steady and felt hot in my lap. She didn't move her hand as she slid her tongue up the length of my cock, and as she raised herself up she instantly became a towering mass of fuzz, like a wave of white fleece that was swelling up, impatient to collapse into my crotch and swirl and crash all around me.

"Slip him inside your mouth and take him all the way to the back of your throat."

Her lips dropped over my foreskin, sealing my penis tightly in her mouth, and plunged down as far as they could go. Without any further instruction she started bobbing up and down the entire length of my cock, moving her tongue from side-to-side, flexing it, sucking with just enough pressure to coax my penis to grow even bigger inside her sopping wet mouth. I arched my back and pressed my body into the fur-covered chair and tried to catch my breath.

"Is she doing a good job?," my girlfriend asked me.

I nodded, gripping the mohair, my mouth open and my breathing heavy. I have always been able to last for a long time inside a woman's mouth when I could guide her and control her speed and movements. But now, my girlfriend was in control, and our hostess was incredibly proficient with her tongue.

The roll neck cuddled and tugged at my balls again causing me to thrust my hips forward. I heard a soothing 'mmm' from my lap as our hostess swayed her head from side-to-side and lifted my legs over her shoulders.

"That mohair looks so delicious, lover," my girlfriend said, stepping closer to get a better view of the unbelievable oral fucking I was getting. "I love the way it flutters as her head bounces in your lap. Is the roll neck cupping your balls like I thought it would?"

I nodded.

"Not good enough - you have to tell me what it's doing to you." Her eyes looked so gentle under the brim of the fox hat as she spoke.

"It's amazing ... it's so brushed out. It's scratchy ... sometimes ..., but ... it's coarse in a fluffy way." I moaned as she pushed her mouth down hard to the base of my cock and rolled her head around. I went so far to the back of her throat it was like she was trying to eat me alive. The feeling of the mohair, so fluffy, so bulky caressing my bare skin and her sucking me off was incredible and left me so weak that I felt like a small piece of flesh being rolled around in her hands and her mouth.

Her lips tightened around me as she raised her head and let my cock flop onto my belly. The air began cooling the saliva on my bare skin but my erection didn't falter. She stood up and turned to my girlfriend. The poncho was magnificent to look at, and her slender figure showed through the puffiness of the brushed wool, with just a hint of a line where the poncho had crept into her ass.

"Your turn," she said.

"But that wasn't the deal." My girlfriend looked at me and then back at our hostess. "You were supposed to finish him off."

She purred softly. "Don't worry, he'll be cumming inside me soon enough." She sat down on my lap with her back turned to me. My cock rested firmly in the crack of her ass as the mohair brushed over my belly. "But first, I need a wardrobe change." She lifted the poncho over her head and let it fall behind her as she turned slightly towards me. "Hold onto this for me, sweetness, will you?"

The mohair flooded down her back and spilled over my stomach. I reached out to catch it from falling to the floor and my hands were instantly lost in the thick folds of her discarded mane. Still lost in the sensation of her tender mouth, I kneaded the chunky, hefty heap of fuzz, and wished I were wrapped up in it.

"Open the big drawer over there on the right," our hostess was saying to my girlfriend, "and pull out what's inside."

"How will I know what to get?," she asked as she moved to where she was told.

"Don't worry, there's only one piece in there."

The drawer was double the width and height of the others in the closet, and as my girlfriend opened it and reached I heard her mutter "Holy crap" under her breath.

"Bring it here and dress me in it."

She was unfurling a mass of black as she lifted the item out of it resting place. She pirouetted on her heels holding the contents of the drawer in her bare arms. Her body disappeared up to her chin in the blackness of it, and with the dark silver fur covering her head down to her eyebrows all that was left of her in the darkened room were her wide eyes.

I could feel our hostess pressing her ass against my cock as I watched my girlfriend bring the puffy mass over to her.

"What is it?," I asked as she inched her hips backwards, her sex eventually sliding back and forth across my shaft, suckling it with its warm lips.

She stretched out her arms as my girlfriend neared her, readying herself to be enclosed in the dense, alluring cloud that was being brought to her. "Marabou, my sweet." It moved so smoothly first over her right arm, around her back and up her left arm. My girlfriend adjusted the garment as she brought it in together in front our hostess, and when I looked up at her shoulders I could only see her silver fox fur hat poking out ever so slightly over her fluffy shoulder.

"But it's so chubby," I marveled. The scent of a sweet perfume drifted out from the feathers.

"I had it custom-made. The strips of feathers are tightly sewn together, and instead of lining it with satin I had it lined with another tight layer of feathers." She stretched her arms out to emphasize just how plump the jacket really was. 

"This is one of my favourite jackets. I can feel everyone staring at me whenever I wear this in public. You should see the expressions of the people I've fucked draped in this thing - it's like they're about to explode." She wiggled her hips and coaxed a stream of pre-cum onto my belly. "They disappear underneath me as soon as I crawl on top of them. Fucking someone when I'm dressed up in this is almost like masturbating - I get off on the pleasure of being filled without seeing why." She stroked the thick feathery coat for effect. "Listening to the cries of pleasure coming from within my shroud while being pawed at by unseen hands is such a turn-on." She slid her hips back a little more. "Are you ready to explode?," she asked, looking over her shoulder.

"Maybe," I whispered. "I think I can hang on for a little longer."

She smiled. "Good. Now, lift yourself up so I can have you inside me."

She was so wet when my the head of my cock pushed through that she had engulfed my cock before I had the chance to move my hand away. She rocked her hips back and forth and let out a satisfied "oooh." 

"He feels just as good in here as he did in my mouth, my furry-headed friend." She squeezed her muscles around my shaft as she raised her hips and lowered them, pushing her sex deep into my crotch.

"aauuugghh."

She settled into a steady rhythm, and the thin, light feathers puffed all around her as she humped me, rocking her hips back-and-forth. I heard her talking quietly to my girlfriend as I watched her fluffy torso bounce up and down in front of me.

"Come here."

"Why?"

"Because you've been a spectator long enough," she said soothingly.

"Where am I supposed to go?" Her voice was timid and slightly anxious. "Just come here and let me make love to you."

"I ... I can't."

Her feather-covered arm reached forward. "Come." She waited my girlfriend to take her hand.

"You think she should come to me, don't you, my little devotee?"

The thought of them fucking brought a newfound ache to my swollen penis.

"Nnnh ... nnnh ... yes ... god, yes."

As I peered over the bushy black shoulders that undulated over me I watched the fox fur hat move away from the closet doors and towards the black mass between us. The words 'turn sideways' were spoken into the darkness.

The poncho was still plastered across my belly, my left hand burrowed into the middle of the fluffy white knitting. I reached my right hand up and stroked the marabou jacket, and stared in wonder as it disappeared completely into the feathery mass. I slid the poncho to the floor and pulled the lever on the chair, straightening it so that my chest felt the tender caresses of the thick down as it bobbed in time with her lovemaking. I heard some mumbling and then I heard my girlfriend's voice.

"She wants to know if you can see me."

How could I with this gigantic feather jacket filling the room and my imagination.

"No, I can't see anything."

More murmurs.

"She wants you to ask me what she's doing to me."

The first swell of my orgasm dashed over my balls but retreated just as quickly.

"What's she doing to you?," I asked, trying to picture her standing naked in front of the miasma of quivering black that seemed to burst forth from my crotch.

"She's running her fingers through my pubic hair ... and rubbing my back with her feathery arm."

She sounded delirious with pleasure. Her voice cracked when she talked and her breathing came in gulps. I had moved my right hand to our hostess' thigh and my left hand was buried in the mass of her left shoulder as she jostled in my lap, squeezing her sex around me. She spoke again, this time with a little more force in her voice. "Turn your back to me and describe to him what I'm doing."

There was a tiny pause, a bit of shuffling, and then my girlfriend cried out.

"Oh god!"

"Tell him."

My hand squeezed the pile of feathers as another hint of my coming orgasm twisted around the base of my cock.

"Her left arm is wrapped around my waist ... it's so thick ... I can't see my feet ... aaauuughh. She's pulled me very close to her ... all I feel are feathers all around me, in the crack of my ass ... uhnnhh ... uhnnhh ..."

"What else am I doing to you?"

"She's ... she's ..." 

Her voice trailed off but I could see that our hostess' black feathery arm had moved from her side and was now puffing up and down in front of her. My hands fumbled over the softness of the jacket as I pictured my girlfriend standing naked in front of the dense feather chubby, a plump arm between her legs, the feathers dancing in time to the thumb that was filling her sex.

It was all too much and I could no longer calm the surge in my crotch. I grabbed hold of the marabou-covered hips pitching gingerly in my lap and squeezed them as my orgasm rushed out of me. 

"I'm cumming ... oh god, I'm cumming ..." I pulled her hard into my lap each time the cum rushed from me; the endless streams weakening me with every flinch of my prostate.

The feathery arm pumped faster, and I could see the silver fox hat occasionally peeking around the shoulders that towered over me. Her knees were buckling. Our hostess was speaking softly to my girlfriend again and as I watched the marabou convulse all over her she got up from my lap and seemed to scoop up her naked prey into her feathery shroud, turn her around, and pour my girlfriend's slender form on top of me. She got down on her knees and without waiting for any instructions I pulled the lever on the chair and we both slid backwards, my cock slipping into the fold of her ass, her legs lifting over our hostess' shoulders.

I held her close to me, tightly, but even if I hadn't been there I doubt she would have moved as the practiced tongue atop that cloud of black down began to plumb the depths of her sex, pushing out murmurs of utter submission from deep within her ...



Opening Night: Act 04



Michelle and I were still in bed when the sun had made it a quarter of the way up the bedroom wall. I was on my back and she had curled up beside me, looking quite content with the lynx coat draped around her. Erin, our hostess, was nowhere to be seen. I strained to listen over the muffled street noise but couldn't hear any movement coming from the first floor.

"I think she's gone," I said to Michelle, nudging her furry shoulder.

"Huh?"

"Wake up." 

She brought her hand up to her face to rub her eyes; the sleeve of the lynx coat almost covered her entire head as she did so. 

"Erin's gone. It's just the two of us."

She rolled over onto her back and the coat opened up, falling away from her belly and sliding down her sides just enough to show the start of the curve of her left breast. Michelle's breath softly fluttered the tawny hairs of the collar that was gathered around her neck.

"I think we should go," I said, looking for some reaction. "We need to get to work in a few hours."

Her head turned to the far side of the bed, and in one slow movement she reached her right arm out to the night stand, grabbed something from beside the lamp, and as she brought her arm back across her chest she rolled on top of me. Michelle was soon straddling me, and was holding a tiny bottle of lube in her hands.

"First," she said, "we need to take care of this little problem of yours."

"But I need to pee," nodding my head forward, acknowledging the erection to which she was referring.

She smiled and flicked open the lid of the lubricant, pouring more than enough over the shaft of my penis. Popping the lid closed and tossing the bottle to her side of the bed, she reached between her legs, opened her labia, and draped them over my foreskin.

"I guess that means you will have a hard time cumming." She began to slide up and down the length of my cock. "Besides," she said, "I really love watching you disappear into this coat." She put her hands on my shoulders to hold me down, and the fur spilled onto my chest and ribs.

It felt like her sex was sucking on me, and every few strokes she would arch her back and take just the tip of my head inside her. Michelle was very lissome and could twist her hips in such a way that her sex would swallow me into her without either of us having to use our hands. She was also very adept at teasing me, and would sometimes keep me erect for what seemed like hours with simple bends and manipulations of her pelvis without ever taking all of my cock inside her.

"I don't think I will have ... any trouble cumming quickly," I said, reaching up and putting my hands under the armpits of the coat. My fingers floated through the yielding fur and finally pushed through the guard hairs and found the resistance of Michelle's body buried deep inside the pelts. "It might be quick," I said, entranced by the sweep and sway of the white and caramel shroud that sweetly lagged behind Michelle's onslaught on my senses, "but I know it will be ... incredible.

She had settled into slow, steady rhythm, like she was trying to apply an even layer of herself over the entire length of my penis. Michelle's face peaked out from between the lush band of fur that had bunched up around her ears. I could see her mouth, open enough to keep her breathing from becoming too heavy; the rest of her body I only imagined buried within the massive downy envelope that appeared to have swallowed her whole, and that was well on its way to swallowing me whole as well.

"You look so helpless."

Her voice was a whisper. She always knew what tone to use when we were making love. I had easily lost myself in her, in the coat, and thought and felt nothing but the insatiable flesh that was beautifully pulling on me and the luscious wrapping that incessantly bobbed against my skin.

I couldn't answer. There were no words that could describe the explosive ache she had created inside of me, or how weak I felt spread across the bed underneath her. My hands fell gently to the drape of the fur that had gathered around her thighs and crumpled up where Michelle's legs met the sheets, the movements of her hips almost imperceptible through the fluffy mound, acquiescing while she took whatever pleasure from me she wanted.

She let her chest collapse on top of me, bringing the full weight and breadth of the tawny fur down with her. With a slight nuzzling of my jaw she tilted my head to the left and kissed the small of my collarbone. Her hair and the lynx fur brushed against my shoulder and cheek, and as I raised my arms and began to fondle the coat that swelled and spilled across her back and seemingly everywhere I looked, dwarfing the two of us, she flicked her tongue quickly and firmly in the nape of my neck and up and down my jugular. I couldn't hold out any longer.

Michelle understood the breaths and moans I made, my own unique orgasmic symphony, and knew she had finally elicited that delicious twitch from me. Her mouth and teeth sunk onto my neck, and as she sucked at me her pelvis drove hard against me and matched each shiver of my cock, pulling on me, and drawing my cum into her until she could no longer feel the gentle pulse that she suspended inside of her.

We lay together until long after my erection subsided and I had slipped out of her sex. I thought she had fallen back to sleep when she finally stirred and whispered in my ear.

"We need to go to work."

"I know."

"And you need to pee."

"And I need to pee."

-

The matinee call had sounded its last bell, and the few remaining people in the lobby ran past the ushers standing guard at the doors, smiling and nodding apologetically as they waived their tickets and scurried to get back to their seats.

Michelle and I had not had the chance to talk since we started our shift. I was about to turn off the cloak room light and lift the floating counter when a courier came in with an electronic signature pad under his left arm and a small envelope in his right hand. He looked around the lobby briefly and settled his gaze at my end of the atrium. He had the gait you would expect from a courier - quick, but in control; the pace of a guy who had double-parked and didn't want to take any chances.

He put the envelope on the counter, pulled the pad from under his arm, and without looking up started tapping in the tracking details for his delivery.

"My instructions were to deliver this to the guy in the coat check."

"That's me," I said.

"You're the only one who works here?," he asked, still tapping away at the LED screen.

"For this shift, anyway."

He finally looked up at me.

"You know someone named 'Erin'?"

I am not sure if my face flushed when he said her name but it sure felt like it did.

"Yes," I replied. "Yes, I do."

"Sign here." He passed the terminal over to me, pulled the stylus from the mount at the back, and pointed to the well-scratched rectangle at the bottom of the dimly backlit panel.

With a cursory look at my signature he tapped the screen a few more times, popped the stylus back in its place, and headed back to his delivery truck.

Michelle had been watching the whole transaction and was kind of amused by it all. Not wanting to attract any undue attention from the ushers, she just shrugged her shoulders and pointed at the envelope on my counter.

"I have no idea," I mouthed, and picked it up.

My name was handwritten on the outside in a very fine script. The only words I can write by hand are my first and last names, and would feel ashamed to even try to make an attempt at cursive writing when addressing a letter. The paper stock was quite nice and had a beautiful tooth to it. I almost didn't want to open the envelope but when I looked over at Michelle she was making impatient hand gestures for me to get on with it.

I reached under the counter and grabbed a small utility knife, squeezed out about an inch worth of blade, and slid it into one end of the top of the envelope. The cutting of the paper echoed through the foyer, and Michelle, no longer willing to wait behind her kiosk, came over to the cloak room and leaned across the countertop.

"What is it?," she asked, trying to pull the paper out of my hands.

"Hang on, hang on." I put the knife down and looked inside. "It's an invitation."

Michelle plucked the paper from my hands and began to read.

"You are cordially invited to an intimate evening with friends. A car service will arrive at your residence this evening at eight o'clock and bring you to the engagement. You will find the appropriate attire for this evening's event waiting for you when you get home."

"What kind of friends do we have who can send a car service for us?," I asked.

Michelle turned the card around and pointed to the bottom. In very elegant handwriting was a note that simply read:

"This is going to be fun. Erin. xoxo"

I looked up at Michelle and could feel my face going beet red again.

"Oh my."

"Oh my, indeed," she said, rereading the invitation. "Oh my, indeed."

-

We couldn't get home quick enough. By the time our shift ended and the last of the audience had finally left the theatre, it was just after 7PM. Michelle and I decided to splurge and took a taxi home. We had agreed that any event Erin was inviting us to was not the kind that would appreciate two people smelling like they had worked near a playhouse concession stand all day.

As promised, our outfits were in garment bags hanging on the hooks by the front entrance, and after checking which bag belonged to whom, Michelle and I raced upstairs for a quick shower. Even having done what we thought was too much primping and preening, we were still ready by 7:40 and found ourselves sitting in the living room on the main floor in our white cotton (and somewhat loose) attire, wondering what we were getting ourselves into.

When the doorbell rang promptly at eight o'clock, Michelle and I almost jumped from our seats and ran to the foyer. We both took a few deep breaths before opening the door. The driver, as mentioned on the invitation, stood on the front step, cap and all, and held out two black masks.

"Erin hopes that you found everything in order."

"We did," I said, and took the masks from him. "Thank you."

"You may hold onto these for now and put them on once we arrive at The After Party."

"We are going to an after party?," Michelle asked.

"Of a sort. That is simply what it has always been called for as long as it has been around."

I was very curious by this point.

"How long has it been around? What happens at these after parties?"

Up 'til then, our driver had been very professional - he had acted exactly as one would expect a chauffeur to act, and he brought you into the world of someone who deserves to be driven around by someone dressed just like him. My questions seemed to unsteady his routine for just a second and when he regained his chauffeur persona he looked at me and spoke firmly but with a mildly apologetic tone in his voice.

"I am not allowed to discuss the nature of The After Party. To do so would jeopardize the benefits I receive in my role as one of the few drivers they use." He paused to make sure that we all knew that the topic of discussion was now closed, and then gestured to the open door of the awaiting limousine.

"Shall we away?"

-

I did my best to follow our route as our driver took us through the city but after going through many alleyways, parking lots, and what were probably restricted city access routes, I gave up and tried to enjoy the ride. When the limo finally stopped it was about 8:30PM. The right-hand passenger door opened and a hand reached in to help Michelle out of the backseat.

"I hope you enjoy your evening," the chauffeur said, closing the door behind me. "Erin will call me when you are ready to leave." With that he tipped his hat, got behind the wheel, and slowly drove up the street and out of sight.

Michelle pulled the invitation from her purse and we both looked for the address. It wasn't printed on the card.

"Where the heck is the address?," I asked aloud, looking for some street numbers on the buildings beside us.

Michelle flipped the card over and looked up and down the row of houses in front of us.

"It's not on the card, and I don't know if you have noticed but there are no numbers on any of these places."

Before we could get too concerned about being dropped in the middle of nowhere with no clue where we were supposed to be, a door two stoops up from us opened and a woman in an outfit identical to ours stepped down towards street level.

"You must be Erin's friends." She motioned for us to meet her on the landing. "Please, come in out of the cold."

Muffled conversations and quiet music could be heard gently spilling out the door that framed her silhouette. Although every window of the brownstone was fully lit, the muted light suggested a very cozy setting for the party inside.

As the heavy wooden door closed behind us, the concierge took our invitation and Michelle's purse and put them in a small locker in the cloakroom to the right of the doorway.

"No need for a claim ticket," she said before we could say anything to her. "We are all friends here."

"Where is here, anyway?," I asked. "The limo driver could only tell us that this was simply called 'The After Party,' and that we would have to wait for someone to explain what that actually meant."

"I am glad to hear he didn't ruin the surprise for you." The concierge smiled, and the way she smiled caused me to blush heavily. She was attractive but that was not what was appealing about her. She gave off a certain aura, one that made you understand that you had just met one of the most genuinely sexual people in the city. Even if she had not been my type I would have still found her extremely alluring.

"'The After Party' is an evening of like-minded people who come together every so often to get to know each other a little better. Some have attended the party for years, and sometimes we welcome new friends, like yourselves."

"But what are we doing here?" Michelle seemed a little unsure of herself for the first time since I met her.

The overseer put a tray of arm bands on the counter in front of us.

"You are here to make friends in any way you wish. These colour-coded arm bands will let the other guests here tonight know what level of," she paused to make sure her choice of words was exactly what she wanted to say, "engagement you would like when you are mingling. If you wish to be approached by only men then you would choose a blue one; if you wish to be approached by men with the chance of something happening then you would choose a blue arm band with the red patch on it." She looked at us to make sure we were following her instructions.

"And I guess the same principal applies to the pink arm bands? Solid for a nice conversation and the red patch for a really nice conversation?"

She gave me that melting smile again.

"You are absolutely correct."

Michelle and I glanced at each other and then down at the tray again.

"What happens," Michelle asked, "if you aren't sure what you want to do? Which one do we wear if we just want to sit back and get a feel for what this place is all about?"

She pointed to the gray bands.

"A neutral colour for a neutral course. No one is asked to do anything they are not comfortable with. The black masks are optional if you want to feel a little more anonymous. That being said, would you like me to give you a few moments to think about your options?"

For what was supposed to be a nice evening out this sure was turning into one of the biggest decisions of our lives.

"Yes, please," we both let out at the same time.

-

We were still fiddling with our pink arm bands and masks when we got to the top of the stairs.

I had just finished smoothing out the folds of my shirt underneath the added circle of fabric when I heard Michelle gasp as she stopped at the threshold.

"Ho-ly crap!"

I lifted my head and turned to see her mouth hanging open, and then turned to see what made her go white as a sheet.

"Holy crap!"

The street façade for the building was just that, a complete fake meant to make the space we were in now conform to the rest of the neighbourhood. The interior of the house extended three units up the street, and the second floor was completely missing making for a grand hall that was open but was decorated in such a way that, even if were devoid of people, would have felt quite cozy. The architecture, however, was not what had left Michelle and me awestruck.

We had walked into the most elaborate, most decadent costume ball ever imagined. And any one of the outfits that filled the room before us would have made the most enthusiastic and discerning fur, fluffy, and feather fetishist swoon with delight.

"This explains why it felt a bit chilly when we came in," Michelle said, nudging my arm.

I remembered that she had said something but it didn't register. Nothing registered except for the sea of tactile delight wafting across the floor in front of us.

"What?," I said, not so much speaking the word as letting it piggyback on a breath.

She nudged me harder this time and I looked over at her.

"I said this explains why it felt cold when we walked in the front door. They need to keep the temperature down so everyone doesn't overheat."

I thought I muttered it quietly enough when I said that I was about to overheat but I guess I didn't because Michelle replied with an equally muted 'I bet.'

I don't know which one of us saw her first but neither Michelle nor I could look at anything else in the room as soon as we noticed a woman in white walking towards us. Her costume was phenomenal - were it not for the fact that it was all white she would have fit in perfectly in Hell. 

She wore a goat mask with small horns poking up from beside her ears and short black boots that must have been specially made to look like hooves and gave her an extra three inches in height. The bodice of her outfit was a knitted, gauzy angora body-hugging masterpiece - it wasn't made from angora that you would find at your local craft store; it was thick and fluffy and the hair bobbed and flowed as the woman approached us.

The bottom half of her costume was what caught my attention the most. Her pants were made of angora goat pelts; they bulged out at the thighs and tapered down to her ankles to give her the appearance of having extremely powerful legs. The whole effect was that she looked like a mythical god, one for which I would have gladly sacrificed myself.

"I see you are looking for some conversation," the goat said to us, pointing at our arm bands.

Michelle and I were still stunned by the gorgeous body that was covered by the formidable costume standing before us.

It wasn't one of my more intelligent openers but I somehow managed to come out with "What?"

The woman in white smiled down at us.

"I said that I see you and Michelle decided to choose the pink arm bands. The conversation starters. I figured you would both take the more modest approach to the evening."

We finally clued in that it was Erin who was towering over us.

"Your outfit is ... ." Michelle paused to look our hostess up and down again. "It's breathtaking."

Erin smiled at the compliment and twirled around to give us the full effect.

"I am a Sagittarius, you know. I have always had an affinity for the story of the half man, half goat." She smiled and ran her hands down her chest, her fingers almost disappearing in the fluffiness of the loose-knit angora as it allowed her nipples to poke through the fuzz just for a second, and over her flat belly to her pelvis. "Half woman, I should say."

I couldn't help but think 'all woman,' but didn't say it aloud.

She waived her arms, inviting us to leave the safety of the doorway behind.




Opening Night: Act 04



"What are we doing here?," I asked.

"You don't like what you see? I thought you and Michelle would be two people in this city who would appreciate this kind of thing the most."

"It's incredible." I had to strain my neck to catch Erin's gaze. "But I am just wondering why you invited Michelle and I here."

Erin put her hand on my head and slid it down the back of my neck.

"I have had a lot of fun with the two of you, and this is a part of our sexual appetites that the three of us enjoy."

She started caressing my shoulder underneath the cotton shirt and running her hand back up my neck and playing with my hair as we walked.

"I want us to be closer, and I don't know what you and Michelle have discussed about our relationship but I have no interest in anything short term."

Erin stopped walking and pulled Michelle and me close. It took every ounce of self-control I had not to start rubbing my hands over the goat fur that enveloped her bottom half.

"The After Party is open to a select group of people and I want the both of you to be part of that select group." She paused and looked around the room at the other guests in their costumes. "Besides," she said, "the hornier you two get the more fun I get to have later on."

"I cannot wait until later, then." Michelle surprised me with her candor, and when I looked up at Erin I could see her blushing under her mask.

The three of us took a moment to think about what the night had in store for us, and revel in the imagery of what we all hoped would be a mutually beneficial end to a very interesting evening.

Erin broke the silence.

"Did the girl at the door explain what is on offer at the party?"

Michelle and I shrugged.

"Not really," I replied. "She just explained the arm band choices."

"Well," Erin said as she looked around the room, "no one will not abide by the rules of the arm bands that you picked up at the door. If anyone approaches you they know that you only want to have a nice little chat. With that in mind, the topics of conversation here range from 'Who is your favourite artist?' to 'What sexual fantasy would you most like to live out?'"

Just as our hostess had barely finished talking a woman in a skin-tight fur costume with the biggest, puffiest tail I have ever seen walked by. Like the rest of the participants at the After Party, the attention to detail on her outfit was remarkable.

Half-jokingly I blurted out "Who's the fox?"

Michelle reached behind Erin and gave me a punch on the arm.

Erin watched the woman walk to the north side of the building and continued to watch her as she sat down, adjusting and draping her tale over her shoulder and across her chest, smoothing it gingerly in her lap with her right hand.

"That's not a fox. She's a squirrel, and you might want to watch your step around her."

Michelle had followed Erin's gaze and was still watching the woman stroke her tail when she asked why. "Is she dangerous?"

Erin chuckled. "No, no, nothing like that. Everyone here has been fully vetted. What I mean is that she is a collector."

"What does she collect?" Judging from the look on her face I had just beaten Michelle to the question.

"People. She collects people. From what I have seen she collects men and women, but that tail of hers helps her collect men at a much faster rate."

My attention immediately turned from Erin to the thick, bulging tail the squirrel women had draped around herself. My favourite Sagittarian could tell that I wanted more details.

"The tail is so thick because it is lined with the same fur on the inside as it is covered with on the outside. She also has one of those electro-stimulation devices built into the tip of the tail, just inside the opening she has fashioned at the end of it."

It took me a moment to gather my thoughts. "So that means ... ."

"That means, lover, that once she slides that thing over your cock you are neither going to want to move nor will you be able to move." Erin started to walk to an empty set of couches as she continued to keep an eye on the subject of our conversation. "Your cum gets collected in some catchall that she has rigged up inside but never having had the pleasure of being collected by her, I couldn't tell you how she does it."

Michelle could see that my mind was lost in the visuals Erin had painted for us. "And how does she collect women?," she asked.

Erin looked Michelle right in the eyes. "She gives the best oral sex of anyone in this room." She didn't flinch or show any emotion when she spoke and this made Michelle feel a lump of anticipation build in her throat.

"Or so I have been told, anyway." She paused for a second and then smiled at the both of us. "Enough about stories, rumours, and horny squirrels. Why don't you go get drinks for you and Michelle and I will make my rounds. If you need to be rescued just ask any of the staff to come and find me and I will save you ... if I can."

"How do we know which of these people work here? Everyone's all in costume?," I asked.

Erin put her hand on the back of my neck again and pulled me close so I had no choice but to feel the fullness of her attire.

"They're the ones with the word 'Staff' on the backs of their shirts."

As soon as she told me I could suddenly see the word in black lettering bobbing through the crowd here and there.

"Now go get those drinks," she said as she bent down to give me a kiss on my collarbone. Her lips lingered there for a few moments and I could feel Erin's breath spill across my shoulder. Before I realized she had stopped kissing me she had turned on her hooves and waded through the other partygoers, her horns poking out above the crowd.