Unmasqued

pleasure to suck a cock that did not gag her with its length, but that filled her from cheek to cheek with hot, pulsing flesh.

Her underdrawers were soaking now, and her nipples hard and pointed like little cannon. If he would just move a little, she could rub them against his knees…

Losing patience, she reached up and grabbed his hands-which had been fluttering aimlessly at his waist as she worked his cock-and planted them firmly over the front of her breasts. The mere contact sent her aching nipples tightening further, and as she pulled away from him, stopping just at the head, she sucked harder as she massaged his hands over her breasts.

She couldn't hold back a groan as she felt the tension building; Armand seemed to catch on, for he began to move his hands of his own accord. Maude slicked her tongue over the underside of his cock, and felt him shudder and shiver in surprise. Mon Dieu, had the man never been pleasured thus? What would happen if she stuck her thumb up his ass?

But she could save that little experiment for later.

The buttons that confined her melon-sized breasts came undone easily, and when her bodice opened and they spilled from their restraint, the release was almost orgasmic. But she needed more. Maude reached behind her and found one of the seats. She let Armand's erection slip out of her mouth as she pulled herself into one of the chairs.

'Come here,' she said, but he was already scrambling after her. She urged him into place, straddling her, his thick cock pushing into her stomach.

And she rested her head back, exposing white shoulders and two huge white breasts, tipped with rosy nipples that were so hard they hurt. She slid her hands under them and jostled their beautiful weight, offering them to him.

Armand appeared to have lost any remaining shyness; he surged forward and grasped and grappled with them. Pinching the left nipple, he hefted and jiggled her other breast and then leaned forward to take it into his mouth.

When his moist, hot mouth closed around her entire areola and sucked, hard, Maude jerked and groaned as pleasure speared down past her belly. She nearly came right then, but pulled herself back from the edge.

His thumb teased her other nipple; his full, soft lips pulled on the right in a rhythm that matched the way she was running her hand up and down his cock. Faster, tighter, he sucked and she stroked, and the pool of wet between her legs grew larger and hotter, her sex growing and throbbing painfully. She moved her hips beneath him as he switched breasts, sucking on the left one, tweaking and thumbing the right. Pleasure built and grew, and still he sucked, and still she stroked, and held back.

And when she felt his cock moving, the surge of liquid racing along toward the end, she loosened her grip, stopped the rhythm… Not yet, she thought. Not… yet…

Armand groaned against her nipple, and if possible, it felt as though his erection grew larger; but then Maude wasn't thinking about anything but the tugging at her breasts. He was moving back and forth between the two of them, sucking and flicking with his fingers. Her hips moved; her breasts were so tight a coin would bounce off them… She grasped his head and held it at her left nipple, and he sucked, and it got tighter, and her pip pounded and swam, and suddenly she exploded, shuddering beneath him.

'Mon Dieu… mon Dieu…' he groaned, the words forming around her areola as he jutted his cock insistently into her stomach.

'Oui, out, mon petit ours, my little bear,' she breathed, rolling him off of her lap, over the arm of the chair, and onto the seat next to her.

Just as she began to hitch up her skirts, and find the sopping hole in her drawers, illumination burst from the stage below.

'Mon Dieu!' Armand started, jerking beneath her as she straddled him. He struggled to sit up from the slouched position that left his cock standing straight up like a lovely, hard column, but Maude pushed him back.

'Non, my dear. No one can see us… Just do not make any noise. See?' She smiled her most wicked smile as she slid herself over the head of his upstanding cock.

Armand flinched, sighed, eyes half closing… and then they popped open when she slipped him inside her like a pickpocket's hand into a purse. It felt as though she could not open her legs wide enough. The sweet, familiar feeling of a hard cock, moving inside, slipping and sliding against her, sent another shudder through her, and Maude snatched in her breath in surprise. How lovely that it had happened again so quickly!

She would have to keep her little teddy bear.

His little moist mouth was a round O and she leaned forward to kiss it in thanks as much as for him. Maude thrust her tongue into his mouth just as she had thrust him inside of her, and she rocked on his hips, felt his hands come up and grab at her ass, and felt the constant pleasure of her raw nipples scraping against his coat. A silver button was in the perfect position to snag it with every rhythm, and she leaned closer, wanting more of the pleasure-pain there.

She throbbed and slipped and slid, and he rocked frantically beneath her, his eyes as circular and wide as his mouth. It built and built, and she felt his erection change, shift under her, knew he was close, and just as he burst inside her, someone screamed.

It came from the stage.

Chapter Four

Joseph Buquet's body had been found, tangled and gently swaying, in the stage lines that he had manipulated for nearly twenty years. If anyone noticed that Monsieur Moncharmin's trousers were buttoned up improperly, it was not deemed important enough to mention. There was too much commotion and apprehension permeating the Opera House for anyone to worry about anything but the Opera Ghost.

For, as Erik and Maude had expected, the blame was immediately attached to him.

'But look at how the cords are wrapped around his neck,' protested Madame Giry. 'What an imprecise way it would have been to try and strangle someone. Surely it was an accident.'

'The ghost frightened him and made him fall to his death.' shrieked one of the girls. Madame whirled upon her with frightfully sharp black eyes.

No one, not even Monsieur Moncharmin, would have recognized her as the wanton with the spilling breasts and groaning, openmouthed exertions from only moments before.

'You do not know of what you speak,' Madame told the girl sternly. 'You had best learn to hold your tongue; else you might find yourself amp; victim of the Opera Ghost.'

After the police had been called and the stage was cleared, the managers stood off to the side. Monsieur Firmin Richard turned to Monsieur Moncharmin and showed him a thick parchment note with his name written on it. 'I have received this letter,' he told him.

'And I have received one too! This Opera Ghost requires that we pay him twenty-four thousand francs per month or he will not allow us a peaceful existence.'

'And my letter states that we must allow Christine Daae to perform Marguerite in Faust tonight.'

'But that is Carlotta's role! She did not sing last night, because she was angry about the backdrop falling… but certainly she has heard of Miss Daae's success and will return tonight to retake the stage.' Armand sounded ill. 'What shall we tell her?'

'Of course Carlotta will sing tonight,' Firmin replied, tearing the parchment into two long strips. 'Madame Giry is right; Buquet likely had too much to drink and fell off the catwalk. Do you not remember Poligny warning us about him? The Opera Ghost is nothing but a foolish person trying to scare us into paying him blackmail. Well, it will not work in my Opera House!' He dropped the parchment and watched it flutter to the floor.

'And what of Box Five? The Phantom has insisted we leave it empty for his use. Madame Giry has explained it all to me.'