Starting the New Year at an Masquerade Swinger Sex Party
Swinger sex party – it’s not every day that you get invited to secret high-class parties. Sure enough, that’s what happened two nights ago! But if you look back at some of my stories, especially the ones relating my erotic French whore adventures, it really shouldn’t come as too much as a surprise.
So, my friend asked me to bring someone with me for this New Year’s Eve bash. I slipped into a tight-fitting blue velvet dress and grabbed a lacquered wood mask to cover my eyes when necessary. A chauffeur picked us up in a black town car. My date and I sat among three other well-dressed couples, all wearing masks and smiling to one another as we sipped on champagne.
This swinger sex party was sure off to an appeasing start!
We pulled up towards a mansion. The massive gates made way to a meandering paved road lined with trimmed hedges. I had a smile on my face the entire time; just imagining what could await me at this swinger sex party made my thighs quiver with anticipation. I couldn’t wait to experience all the naughty sexy things that were about to happen!
A wide entrance hall with large silk drapes was filled with people dressed to the nines. I heard them calling each other with aliases – fake (maybe real?) aristocratic titles that would allow the guests some kind of anonymity. My friend was nowhere to be seen but she was the least of my concerns at this point.
Suddenly a door at the end of the hall opened, leading into a larger room. I blushed with excitement – was the swinger sex party about to take off?
The room was dimly lit and around a dozen sofas were arranged in a circle. At the end of the hall, there was another door accompanied on each side by large, winding staircases. My skin tingled and my mind raced with thoughts of what was to come.
We all sat down in spots designated by the numbers engraved onto our invitations. But one man and woman walked right into the middle of the circle. Their masks were more ornate than the rest.
A gorgeous girl with bouncy tits on my right whispered they were the hosts.
They wasted no time. With a smile, they decreed that nothing was off-limits. Guests were free to stroll around, enjoy champagne and small talk, flirt, chat and make their move if they chose to.
After strolling for a few minutes, and with no one catching my eye (I admit my standards were high!), I grew bored. I refilled my nth flute of champagne and then suddenly, a hand grazed my bare shoulder and I turned around. A man in a finely tailored suit and purple silk tie had locked eyes with mine and scanned me up and down. There was the rote pause at my noticeable breasts, which usually makes me sigh. But the man’s eyes behind his mask had a sort of intensity that made me rethink what awaited me.
My thighs quivered again at the thought of what we would do.
He led me up the stairs to a small room with two chairs, a table, and a fireplace. More champagne, some cigars, and fifteen minutes of elegant flirting later he had me retiring to a room through the door behind us. Sounds crazy, right? You should have seen me! I was in a daze as we slowly descended onto the silk bedspreads, knocking off our shoes and taking each others’ clothes off.
What ensued was a session of crazy, classy, aristocratic, sexy and debaucherous sex.
He led at the start, feeling my skin and caressing it with long hard strokes. I let him have his way, enthralled by all of the swinger sex party noises I could hear. But there was something about the way this man kissed and licked that really left me wanting more. His tongue explored my curves and everything in between with a sensual frenzy that I didn’t know existed. Then I went on straddling his cock with taut and needy hips. We rolled around like this for hours, our clothes were torn off but never once touched our masks. Sexy, right?
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