As the dreaded day came closer you felt lower and lower. Valentine’s Day used to be fun when you were a new couple starting out, but the years have passed and the wooing slowed. Flowers never came anymore. Nights on the town were infrequent at best. You had fallen into the same boring pattern that almost every couple falls into. Little did you know, however, how different this year was going to be.

“So what do you want to do for Valentine’s this year….the usual?” you ask in a dull dreary bored tone. The usual usually meant going to a mindless action movie followed by some coffee, and then a bout of mildly interesting sex, followed by sleep. It hadn’t been any different in the past five years and you had no reason to think it was going to change this year.

“Actually I’ve got tickets for us to go to a theater for Valentine’s,” I say with a smirk on my face.

“Oh? What’s the play?” you reply, genuinely surprised at my sudden burst of creative planning.

“You wouldn’t know it. The theater is more avant-garde.”

You place the magazine you’re reading down on your lap and look at me directly. “Avant-garde? That doesn’t sound like something you’d like,” you say in a snide but playful manner.

“I know, but I’m trying to expand my horizons a little, like how we talked about with the therapist.”

You cringed at the mention of her. Thought you had suggested the therapist in the first place it was more of an attempt to shock me into changing things up. You were concerned that our relationship had stagnated. With neither of us interested in having children anytime soon, and neither of us interested in the concrete trappings of marriage we were nearing a decade of “dating” without very much to show for it.


The therapist had suggested trying new things, placing each other beyond the comfortable familiar surroundings we were used to. Expanding our social scene and taking in more of what the world had to offer.


It was difficult to hear the therapist talk to you as if you were a child. It felt like she was belittling you. Inwardly you realized she was correct but hearing how I had listened to her suggestion without reservation was a little concerning. You were used to having me to yourself. You were used to being the only woman that I cared to listen to.


“I remember, I just didn’t think you’d actually go through with it. I’m just,” you paused searching for the right words, “surprised, that’s all.”


Your surprise was understandable. After all, despite being together for so long, you had yet to know me fully. I had always kept a little of myself hidden from your view for the fear that you may be scared. In truth, the boring bland, dull life was the one I thought you had wanted. It wasn’t the life I would have accepted if I had not wanted to just make you happy.


When you had suggested the therapist I was relieved. I had become tired of our regular routine and I wasn’t completely sure how long I could keep it up before looking elsewhere for some small piece of excitement. It was very difficult not to jump on every suggestion the therapist had given.


“Well I want to make this work babe.”

You smile and return to the magazine you were reading, “I know babe, I know.” not thinking about everything else that was discussed in those meetings.

When Valentine’s day arrived you and I went to work as per usual. Kissing each other on the cheek as we drove to our separate destinations. Around lunch time a courier arrived with a package and a bouquet of flowers. The package was a brown nondescript cardboard box with no notes or writing of any kind on it.


You smiled and smelled the flowers. Your co-workers gave their approvals in expressions of “Awww” or “They’re beautiful” followed by long drawn out stories of how their husbands used to do the same thing till they got married.


You opened the package when you finally had a moment to yourself and were surprised to see an ornate masquerade mask with a small note that said simply “For tonight.” You furrowed your brow and put the mask back in the cardboard box, playing with the note in your hands.


“What are you up to,” you thought to yourself.
Finally the day ended and you raced home as fast as rush hour would allow you. Upon arriving you found another note on the door. This one said “See you tonight.”


You rolled your eyes and sighed. Obviously I had to work late again and wouldn’t be home till night. You entered our home with a frown on your face which soon disappeared. On the floor there were rose petals leading to a trail up the stairs and into our master bedroom.


You took off your shoes and hung up your coat. Placing your bag next to your shoes you started to follow the trail fighting a sly flirty grin. Upon reaching the bedroom door you half expected to see me there, but once you opened you remembered my note said “See you tonight.” and that it wasn’t night yet at all.


Instead of finding me you found a long black dress and a pair of matching high heeled shoes.


“Interesting” you end up saying aloud.


Then you grab the dress from the bed and hold it up against your frame using the mirrored closet doors to see how it looked. “Not bad.” you said aloud again. You picked up the shoes and tried one on, it fit perfectly so you slipped the other one on, turning to look at yourself in the mirror from each side, then turning completely around to see how the heels made your butt look. The conclusion, fantastic. “He must have had help.” you mutter to yourself but after looking at the dress on your arm, and the shoes on your feet you shrug and decide to be grateful for whomever helped me.


Placing the dress back on the bed and slipping off the shoes you walk into the en-suite bathroom with the intention of showering the workday away. After a nice, steamy, hot 20 minutes of water cascading down your naked body you step out of the shower and grab a towel to wipe the mirror. You stop though, stuck in your tracks as you look at the mirror which now has the words written in the steamy fog, “7pm be ready.” You shake your head and laugh. Clearly I’ve watched too many spy movies but you love the mystery already. You slip on your robe and wander downstairs. You flop onto the couch and pick up the magazine you were reading the evening before. A note drops out of it onto your lap. “Don’t forget the mask.”

7pm arrives and you find yourself looking into the full length mirrored closet doors in our bedroom. The dress I picked for you is stunning. It’s long, form fitting, but simultaneously loose and flowing. The left leg has a slit that runs all the way up to about mid thigh. The heels fit perfectly with the look of the dress and you found some jewelry to match as well. Looking at yourself in the mirror you admire the transformation. You feel good, and you know you definitely look good. “The mask” you splutter for a second, looking around the bedroom to find it. The bedroom at this point looks like an underwear store has exploded as you had gone through nearly every high end piece of lingerie you had in an effort to finish the look I had started. Finding the cardboard box under a few pairs of lacey boyshort panties you open it and take the mask out. You turn to the mirror this time with the mask on, and can’t help but utter aloud, “Woah that’s hot.” seeing yourself for the first time in the completed outfit. Just as you started to once again admire your look, the doorbell rang. You looked over at the dresser and the alarm clock read 7:04pm. “Oh, whoops.” you think to yourself and start out of the bedroom and down the stairs.

Once arriving at the door you adjust your posture and ready yourself to dazzle me with your beauty. Opening the door, however, you find instead a short Sicilian man. “Ma’am you’re car is waiting.” he says motioning to the limousine sitting in the driveway. You smile and nod then follow him to the passenger side door to the limo. The driver opens it dutifully and once more you’re surprised to not see me. Once you’ve sat in the limo you look up to the tinted window separating the occupants from the driver. There is another note on it saying, “Mask on.” and nothing else. You take the mask from your hand and place it on your face as the driver finishes reversing out of the driveway and starts on it’s way to the theater I had told you about a few weeks prior.

Off to the side of the cabin you see a bottle of wine and a glass. Another note says “Drink me.” and you shrug “Why not?” Opening the wine you pour yourself a glass and enjoy the tarty but sweet taste of a well chosen wine. You rack your brain trying to figure out how I was able to pull this all off. After finishing your glass you pour one more and finish it in turn before the car slows to a halt. A few moments later you can hear some talking outside the vehicle. The door opens and a white gloved hand reached inside to help you to your feet. You look to the ground first to ensure that there is somewhere to step and it’s only exiting the limousine that you realize that the man’s hand you’re holding isn’t me at all. Instead it’s a doorman in a white long tailed tuxedo. The doorman nods his head as you thank him for the escort to the door. You can’t tell if he’s smiling or not, however, because he also has a mask on.

After entering the theater you look about and see many couples and groups congregating in the lobby space. All of them have masks on as well and equally elegantly dressed. Out of the corner of your eye you see a familiar shape and after I laugh you know it for sure that it is indeed me. I’m talking to another couple who are clearly enjoying my company. You walk over in a hip swaggering confident manner and put your arms around me from behind. I turn to you and you see me smile through my mask, “Happy Valentine’s day babe.” I whisper in your ear. You are about to reply when an older man in a tophat bellows from the stage, “Ladies and gentlemen. Ladies and gentlemen, please take your seats the show…..has begun.”

“Odd” you think to yourself, don’t they normally say the show is about to begin? I take your arm and place it in the crook of mine and guide us through the sashed doorway to the main area of the theater. The theater is different than most. Instead of lines of seats there are round tables with tall chairs at each. At the far end of the building is a raised platform with a curtain which is clearly the stage for the performance. The old man with the tophat takes his position at center stage and tips his hat to the odd patron that waves hello. He is the only person in the theater that does not have a mask on, and bizarrely it seems strange to you. Making our way down through the stepped platforms I guide you to our table which is in the front row. You take your seat excited but clearly puzzled as to what is to happen next. “Ladies and Gentlemen please take your seats. Hosts and hostesses will be around to your table to take your drink order in a few moments.” the man dictates in a deep baritone voice that command attention despite the lack of a microphone or speakers. He continues, “They will also bring you a small strip of paper and a pen to write down your name for this evening.” Some people who have already been to this theater break out into applause and you look around confused trying to discern clues from their behavior as to what is to happen next.

A few moments later the hosts and hostesses arrive in the theater and are applauded by the same people that are of what’s going on. They are a collection of very attractive men and women. The men are wearing a mask, a bow-tie, and a pair of pants with white suspenders. Their muscled chiseled features catch your attention and you try not to stare at their beautiful bodies. The hostesses are dressed in corsets, garters, and fishnet stockings complete with 5 inch heels and elegant masks. You look them over as well unable to restrain yourself from admiring their form. One of them walks up to our table and places few strips of paper on the table, then a pen before walking over to the next table. Without thinking you grab the pen and paper and print out your name, handing me the pen once you’ve completed the task. I take the pen and the paper from you. “It’s your name for this evening, not your real name babe.” I correct. You look at me puzzled and grab another piece of paper quickly jotting down a fake name for yourself. After a few minutes the hostess returns and takes the strips of paper and pen without a word, then exchanging them for a drink menu.

Picking up the menu you look it over with interest thinking back to the wine you had earlier and how good it tasted. The list, however, is strange. All of the drinks had names that were very sexually suggestive. There was a “Dirty Doggy Style”, a “Cowgirl Cowabunga” as well as a “Mischievous Missionary” to mention a few. Avant garde indeed you thought to yourself. When the hostess came back she asked what we wanted, you chuckled when you heard me asking for a “Dirty Diana” and then had to smile to yourself as you requested a “Danglin’ Dong”.

You turned to me as the hostess walked away and asked quietly, “What is going on?” but all I do is smile and whisper, “You’ll see.”

A little while later the hosts and hostesses come back to the theater with platters full of drinks. Each places the drink at the respective person that ordered then places a small square box in the center of the table. Unable to see what’s in the box you crane your neck and turn to each of the closer tables attempting to catch a glimpse. Then our hostess places our drinks down followed by the mystery box. You quickly grab the box and look inside. “Condoms?” you exclaim in a hushed whisper. “Why condoms?” you ask me in complete confusion.

“It’s part of the show, that’s all babe.” I reassure you, “You’ll see.”

The old man appears back on stage, this time his top hat is in his hand. “Ladies and gentlemen please. If you could direct your attention to the center stage I would like to pick the first two names.” he bellows. The crowd hushes and waits in silence for the names to be read aloud. “Our first participant,” he begins, fishing through the hat “Magnus Trivenica”. The crowd claps and the man at the table beside us stands after hearing the name called. “Thank you Magnus, please proceed backstage for your instructions.” The old man then holds up an oversized martini glass filled with strips of paper. “And now, for our second participant” he fishes through the papers and grabs one, “Elizabeth Volksemere” and a woman from a table near the back stands excitedly clapping to herself as she makes her way to the stage, “Thank you Elizabeth, please proceed backstage for your instructions.” He then directs his attention back to the crowd, “Ladies and gentlemen, your first participants.” and the crowd, minus Magnus, and Elizabeth applauds loudly. The old man walks off the stage and shortly after the crowd begins to resume the conversations they were having before the selection process.

“So what is this show.” you ask me plainly after taking a big sip of your Danglin’ Dong.

“You’ll see hun,” I reply, not answering your question.

“But why the selection thing. Why did those people go back stage? Are they part of the performance?”

“That’s the thing babe,” I explain “we all are.”

“Huh?” you reply in confusion, “What do you mean?”

“We’re all part of the performance.” I smile and then continue, “remember how Shakespear said all the world is a stage and we are merely players? Well this show is very much a literal translation of that concept.”

“Oh, I see.” you say, starting to grasp a strand of the tangled mystery, “so it’s all about audience participation.”

“Exactly.” I say smiling and raising my glass. You raise your glass in turn and we clink them each taking a sip of our sexually suggestive cocktails.

As we sip, onto the stage walks another host with a mask. On the opposite side of the stage a hostess walks towards him. With a sudden jolt the beginnings of an aggressive tango plays over the hidden speakers. The two people on stage suddenly begin dancing in a delicious display of control and sensuality as they move across the stage in a sultry argentine tango. You perk up and watch them dance feeling the erotic nature of the dance pulsating through their bodies and through yours. I smile at you through my mask, knowing you’re warming up to the show. What comes next, however, will still likely shock you.

As the tango comes to a crescendo the dancers lock up in a final pose and the audience claps loudly. Just as the dancers stand and start to walk off opposite sides of the stage, the curtain is raised. To your astonishment you see the woman that was called before, “Elizabeth”. She is dressed in french maids outfit and is kneeling in front of “Magnus” who is standing in the same clothes he wore backstage. The difference now, however, is that he’s leaned up against a prop desk, his hands on the desk, and his masked face looking down at “Elizabeth” as she sucks on his cock. The crowd erupts in applause, but Elizabeth pays them little heed. The section of the stage they are on is raised slightly and begins to turn slowly, allowing the audience to see the action from all sides. You hear the men and women in the crowd “ooh” and “aww” and continue to clap and praise the show they’re seeing. You feel your body becoming warm and your cheeks flushed behind the mask. The shock of what you’re seeing slowly fades as you focus in on the participants and enjoy the scene in front of you.

As the stage turns the woman continues to lavish attention over the man’s hardened sex. She holds it in one hand and licks the head with the other. Even from this distance you can see the head of his cock is red and angry looking. Clearly ready for more and wanting more from the demure french maid. All at once he grips her head with his hands and pulls her up so that she’s standing in front of him. The crowd hoots their approval slapping the tables as they do. Off to the side you see a man watching the scene as the woman at his table strokes him softly. Your attention gets pulled back to the stage when you hear the crowd cheer again. Elizabeth, the maid, has now been turned around and bent over the desk. The stage has rotated to the point where you can look directly into her eyes. Unsurprisingly, they’re shut tight, and her mouth is open wide as she gasps and moans. Magnus has gripped her hips and has increased the pace of his thrusts encouraged both by the crowd and her moaning.

You look at me your eyes wide and I can see the excitement in your face despite the mask. I reach over to you and run my hand up your leg. The slit in the dress giving me perfect access. As the scene continues your attention goes from me to the participants on stage. My hand runs up the inside of your leg and shortly reaches your damp sex. You saucy minx I think to myself, realizing now that you’ve neglected to wear any panties. I snake my finger across your slick sex and hear you murmer a moan. You continue to watch Magnus pounding the french maid and you feel yourself wishing you were in her place, wanting to be in her place. Wanting to be fucked hard and animal like in front of this crowd. You find yourself getting turned on more than you would have expected aching for the hard driving cock that is thrusting into Elizabeth.

As you continue to watch, I continue to reach my finger into you, playing with your clit and sneaking one finger then two inside your wet pussy. You look at me with pleading eyes then back to the stage. I increase the intensity of my attention and I hear you moan loudly. It’s then that you realize that the crowd has become less boisterous. You look around the theater and see the couples in various states. Some of the men have gone to their knees and have started to lick at their partner’s pussy, some of the women were sucking, rubbing, or otherwise fondling the hardened cocks of their boyfriends or husbands. Waves of moaning and gasping were coming through the crowd as the site on stage started to come to a crescendo just as the tango before it.

At that point Magnus had pulled out of Elizabeth, flipped her onto her back, and fucked her even more face to face. She moans and squeals in excitement as the intense pleasure comes washing across her body. Those who are able to, cheer in approval as Elizabeth cocks her head back and screams, “Yesssssss!!!” in the grips of a sensational orgasm. Pleased with his performance Magnus slides his cock deep into her a few more times then pulls out, tosses the condom to the side and cums all over her chest, her bare breasts now dripping with hot white cum. He shudders and grunts as the orgasm pulses through his body and Elizabeth looks on in approval. The crowd claps wildly, and then even louder as a woman near the front row jumps up, slaps Magnus on the ass then dives into Elizabeth to lick every ounce of cum off of her body. The curtain then drops rapidly and the crowd erupts in further applause.

After the applause has subsided a little the old man comes back to the stage. “Ladies and gentlemen. Ladies and gentlemen how about that?” he raises his hands to the sides and the crowd applauds again in approval. “Well well well, now how will our next participants top that performance?” he asks rhetorically. “Please now, please, ladies and gentlemen. If I could have your attention I will now draw the next two names.” The crowd hushed and the moaning stopped as those that were in the midst of pleasing their partners looked up to see who was to be called next.

Part 2


2 thoughts on “Delightfully Deviant Valentine’s Day – Part 1

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