Page 77 of Full Circle

I detonated. The orgasm barreled through me as the stranger in the mask nuzzled into my neck. I clung to the vines for dear life as ripple after ripple of pleasure left me shaking. His thumb continued to circle my clit, working me down from my high.

I didn’t stop to think as I dropped to my knees. His belt was unsnapped in the blink of an eye and his massive erection unfurled from his boxers. Letting my jaw relax as much as possible, I took as many inches in my mouth as I could. I loved the way his cock tasted and how good it felt hitting the back of my throat.

He let out a guttural cry, bracing himself on the fence behind me as I worked more of his dick down my throat. I was a snake, unhinging my jaw, willing to cut off my own oxygen supply if it meant I could continue sucking on him like a lollipop. My hand cupped around his balls, applying a light pressure of massage. Tears were starting to leak out the corner of my eyes from how hard I fought my gag reflex, but I couldn’t stop.

The stranger took charge, thrusting his hips forward to fuck my mouth. He set a rapid pace, and the tears fell in earnest. I couldn’t breathe, I was choking as his rigid shaft stretched my throat to the max, and as I hummed my approval, he spasmed ropes of cum in my mouth.

By the time I finished swallowing, which was difficult from how sore my throat was, the stranger pulled me up by the elbows. It was too dark to see his facial expression and I was too shy to break the silence. He placed a chaste kiss on my mouth before looping his hand through mine. We both took a moment to rearrange our clothing, then exited the way we entered.

Back inside the light of the hotel, I offered him a shy smile, grateful the lacy mask still obscured my face. His breath caught at the sight of my smile. Without another word, he tugged at my hand, leading us towards the elevators. I snagged a shot glass off a passing waiter’s tray and gulped it down. If we were going to his hotel room, I needed all the liquid courage I could get.

Once we reached the elevator, the man swept off his top hat. His gloves had long since gone, probably when we were out on the balcony. Dark tresses fell down in a silky sheet around his face, and he swept off his tuxedo jacket in one fluid motion. The moment the elevator doors closed, the stranger descended on my mouth like he needed the oxygen in my lungs to function.

I swore on Mama and Daddy’s graves I would never drink this much again, but everything about this strange man’s touch set me on fire. I grinded against him, chasing relief between my legs that could dull the throbbing ache that formed there. The air charged with the current between us and I welcomed the feel of it. We only had tonight after all, so I needed to make it count.

The elevator doors opened on a suite rather than a hallway, something I was far too drunk to notice in the heat of the moment. As soon as the stranger pulled me inside, he began stripping out of his clothes, carelessly tossing them on the marble floor. The back wall was made entirely of glass looking out on the Savannah harbor. It was the kind of lovely view that normally would have held my attention for hours. I so loved the water.

My companion had other ideas for the view, however. We collided again, the primal need to physically connect taking over our actions, as he pulled me back towards the window. He shoved the corset down, breaking the metal ribbing inside the fabric, then pressed my breasts together with a gleeful moan. Sinking onto the sofa facing the window, I climbed on his lap to straddle him. My nipples were aching to be touched, and he pulled one into his mouth with a ravenous sigh. I let my head fall back, enjoying the drunken stupor and unearthly pleasure flowing through my body. One of my hands slid under the skirt to push my thong to the side.

“Have a condom?” the stranger panted. His rigid cock was straining so hard against his pants that it was going to break through the zipper. I would have guessed he was in agony based on the growling timber of his voice.

I shook my head. There weren’t exactly pockets in a dress this tiny.

He nodded. “Hold on.”

Setting me on his side, the man rose and jogged down a long hallway, where there were several other closed doors. He darted inside one.

I was left feeling foolish with my tits hanging out and the euphoria quickly wearing off. Righting the corset as much as I could, I wandered over to the kitchen and poured myself a glass of the red wine chilled in a galvanized bucket. The taste gagged me—I was not a wino—but I hoped it would help enough to take the edge off the anxiety I started to feel.

This whole night had been reckless and wild and I hoped I never forgot it. Every woman needed just one night to go to a party in a pretty dress and pretend to be someone she wasn’t. Cinderella without her curfew should be a life goal for every woman over the age of 21. And whoever the masked man was, he came right at the moment when the universe knew I needed to let go.

I didn’t realize I stopped at the couch again, wine glass in hand, until the man’s firm chest and warm presence met my back. Two arms circled my waist again, pulling me close, as he nuzzled into my neck. My hair must look similar to a bird’s nest by now, but all the hair spray and glitter Maggie applied would keep it in place until Doomsday. That didn’t stop him from winding one stray curl around his finger and whispering, “Ready?”

I shuddered at the way one simple word sent a bolt of electricity to my core. Instantly, my panties were wet and the wanton freedom came surging back. It was time for the masked man to liberate me.

Rather than respond, I turned my head and opened my mouth to him, guiding his hands back to the sweetheart neckline of my dress. He freed my swollen breasts immediately, then continued downward to pull the skirt up around my waist. The thong was all but useless now, far too small to capture the arousal pooling there. It snapped with one hard yank and the man’s fingers went straight to my clit to pinch the tingling bud.

I cried out, more from shock than actual pain, and the man hummed his approval. The rustling of a condom wrapper came from behind and he pushed between my shoulder blades so that my torso was hanging over the back of the couch. I had a momentary lapse of panic where I realized for all intents and purposes, I was basically a virgin, having only had sex one time a decade ago, but before I could find the words to convey that to him, the crown of his cock met my entrance.

“You’re so tight!” he growled. He began strumming my clit like a guitar string, deftly working his fingers to loosen the muscles that refused to let him in. I inhaled sharply and let out a long, deliberate exhale, urging my body to relax like it had out on the balcony. Long fingers caressed my tits, kneading them to add the small bite of pain with my pleasure that allowed my pussy to welcome him in.

I was stretching so much that it reminded me of giving birth. There was no way a human cock was this big, nor could I take that much inside me. Standing on tiptoe in the high heels, I angled my ass up to give him deeper access.

That somehow flipped a switch, and he slammed into me hard. My knuckles went white from gripping the back of the sofa. It felt so incredible that my whole body could have gone white and I would have begged him for more. Hitting it from this angle gave him a direct line to my G-spot.

“More! More!” I could barely form the words because my brain was so muddled.

He pounded into me, moving one hand into the curls piled on my head and pulling my torso back upright.

The effect was instantaneous. Crests of an orgasm sent shockwaves through me, over and over like I had been storing them up in all of my years of forced celibacy. Eyes rolling into the back of my head, I slumped forward, totally spent.

With a guttural yell of triumph, the stranger followed, coming so hard that the condom moved. He let out a contented sigh before collapsing on top of me.

Feeling and awareness were slow to return to my body. I started flexing my toes and fingers, letting the blood circulate, before bending my knees. The man came down from his own post-coital high and stood upright, taking his still semi-hard cock with him.

My dress was in shambles, with the tulle of the floppy petticoat bent and sticking out in all directions. There would be no salvaging the corset top as it had torn in his haste to free my tits from their jail. What had once been an elegant mass of curls was now tumbling down the back of my neck, with bobby pins sticking into my skull. I welcomed their sting because it brought me back to reality with a vengeance.

“Here.” The man threw his button up shirt from earlier over my shoulder. “I’ll go grab you some sweatpants.”

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