He hasn’t moved. As I come closer, I see how tall he is, how his face is marble-hard, the lips full as though pushed out from within, the eyes hooded, the nose flat-bridged, every plane of his skull defined as sharply as mason-chiseled stone. While we wear blue denim, white cheesecloth and chamois leather, he is all in black. It matches his eyes.I lean in. “This is kind of wild, huh?” I say, all wide-eyed to make my blues bluer against the kohl.He surveys the dance floor. “Hot, young blood,” he says.I have to shout to be sure of being heard, but I understand him even though his lips barely move. His black hair is cropped to battlefield brevity. I wonder if he is on leave. My friends wouldn’t like that. They don’t have time for the military. I glance back to them, but they are too deep in the dance to notice me.“Were you in ‘nam?” I ask, my stomach squeezing. He shakes his head and my spine unwinds. I notice the drink in his hand is down to the dregs.“Thirsty?” I shout.“Always.”With. "Whhhhrrrrrrrrr!"Debbie tried to shout but could only release muffled grunts. Stacey herself tried to move but was pushed back down her hood still thankfully on. The Mask barked an order."Open up you little bitch. Com, on I know you've taken a lot bigger than this." He spread her lips taking his finger off the trigger the rod coming to a stop. He pressed the motionless tip at her tight little entrance.The narrow pencil type cock eased into Stacey's pussy the girl tensing a little. "What was it? It felt soft but long, was it his cock? No, no it can't be more like plastic." She moaned as the length continued in deeper and deeper."Oh god what is it?"Debbie couldn't look away from the pinned girl, her thighs wide apart, the power tool cock almost all the way in. The van rumbled along and in the poor roof lit half light she saw the Mask's zipper mouth dribbling spittle as he delighted in his little game.Stacey bucked as the rubber tip nudged her cervix. The Mask pushed again to make sure,.
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