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Excerpt
Standing
in the doorway to debauchery, actually a ballroom full of costumed
revelers, his gaze slowly slid over the room as he looked for a ripe piece
of flesh to play with. James Michaud and his twin Thornton refused to
dress up. It wasn't their thing, but sex was and tonight they were after
some prime pussy. Instead of costumes, they chose to wear black suits with
dress shirts and silk ties. When they'd arrived at the entrance, required
silk half masks in black were offered.
Putting
a hand in his pocket, James checked over this year's offerings.
In
many circles they had wicked reputations. They didn't mind, as long as
everyone involved played an informed, safe, sane, and consensual game,
they felt free to indulge themselves.
Since
their first sexual experience, they'd shared their women. Separately or
together, it didn't matter to either of them. Simply put, the Michaud
brothers got off on sex and saw nothing wrong with offering their partner
at the time for the other to enjoy. Neither one of them has been in a
steady relationship where the other hasn't, in some way, been sexually
involved. They were always upfront about what they wanted and if the woman
balked, she was politely shown the door.
With
a small frown creasing his face, James thought about how some of their
bedmates had enjoyed the experience but over time, most had wanted more
from them than they could offer. It wasn't because they were
anti-commitment, because they weren't. The problem was neither one of them
has met a woman they cared enough about to even think about making it a
permanent relationship.
Tonight
they were here to fuck. Nothing else.
Shaking
his head pushed away all the nonsense and he refocused on the possibility
of superior pussy mingling below them.
Paris
was their second home and they loved it. In their opinion, it seemed as if
the people were not as sexually repressed as they had been back in the
states. As far as he and his brother were concerned, there was no shame
attached to enjoying the carnal arts—especially when done without
barriers. Although, one thing the French didn't do was celebrate the
American holiday, Halloween. Years ago, someone from the Liberté
Sexuelle group adapted the fancy dress aspect for their annual fall
bash in an effort to bring the new and older members together. Now the
Depravity Dance was as famous for its costumes, as they were for drawing
people who listened to their body's darkest hedonistic desires.
Leaning
on the railing running across the arrivals balcony, they stood there and
took in the party.
Located
out in the eighteenth district was the warehouse where the party took
place. A few groups who played less conventional sexual games owned and
operated the building as a consortium and maintained it for various
functions. In direct contrast to its exterior and location, the interior
had been entirely reworked to present an opulent, comfortable, and sensual
space.
James
looked around and didn't see anything had changed from the last time
they'd been here. The lower ground floor was constructed of large rooms
for mingling, dancing, and partaking of refreshments. The upper levels
held rooms for more intimate encounters the partygoers enjoyed throughout
the evening. Room sizes varied, as did the privacy level. Some people
wanted to have sex behind closed doors, others liked to be watched, and
then there were the party goers who encourage anyone to join in. There was
space for vanilla sex up the scale to the sweetest love found only through
pain.
"Well,
shall—" Thorn sounded as eager as he to start searching the various
rooms.
"Wait,
look over there to the left, I believe it's a very sexy Marie
Antoinette."
Two
sets of eyes looked across the room at a vivacious figure wearing a wig
twisted high, powdery white and decorated with a crown set at a jaunty
angle. Even with the white satin half mask, both men immediately felt this
was the woman to take on their needs tonight. She looked capable of
accepting them both and enjoying it.
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