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The Black Silver Ball

It was that time for society to show off and that is what I wanted to do.
The Black & Silver Ball

By: Hardtimes6869

I had just opened my mail box and there lay an elegant black and silver envelope, awash in a sea of junk mail. Instantly, I knew that this was an invitation to the most prestigious social event of the year for high society’s crème de la crème . It was a charity awards fundraiser dinner and ball, for the infamous Black & Silver Ball or as I referred to it as The BS Ball. I had not expected to be invited this year as I no longer lived with my parents, the socialites. Living at home I had attended many these types of formal society functions because of my parent’s drive to be recognized as the charitable souls in this metropolis of over privileged, self-indulged people. I was the token child that reflected the completeness of a family.

I digress to provide a complete picture. My parents were college sweethearts and they married after their senior year in college with huge student loans to keep them company. My dad is tall, good physique and salt and pepper black hair. He has been very successful in real estate and is one of the foremost land developers in the tri-state area.

Mom has labored at his side and controlled the purse strings and not a cent was spent without her approval. Mom is the beauty of the family, straight, raven black hair that drapes to the middle of her back. She has a very curvaceous body and naturally firm breasts that would make other women jealous. Her looks have made many of a man melt into a quivering mass of flesh as her dark eyes penetrated them in a searing manner.

They made a handsome couple, both in business and the social worlds that they lived in. She was the CFO (Head Bean Counter) for the business and tightly controlled the flow of money. This applied in the business and was equally true at home. Dad was the CEO or rainmaker. Always striving to put the next big deal together he worked tirelessly. They worked as a team and made money hand over fist.

I was the benefactor of their hard work and it was expected that I pull my fair share of the load. For years it was my role to be the model child, get good grades, be successful in my endeavors and never embarrass the family or the business. For this I received a generous stipend that usually kept my purse brimmed with cash. Screw it up and mom would cut off all my funds immediately and indefinitely. They did not allow to me to become a spoiled little rich bitch that stamps her feet and gets her way as some of my friends had become.

I relished my life style, took pleasure of the family money and position and therefore I knew the value of being a social butterfly. I hand just turned 21, home from college after the completion of my junior year. Academics were easy for me as I was blessed with my parent’s brains and my mother’s beauty. I had my own apartment when I was not in school and I was self-supporting as I worked as an intern in the family business. I was addicted to a life of privilege and so I worked hard to maintain it. But, every now and then a rebellious streak popped into my mind and I did something dumb, and placed it in jeopardy. This was one of those times.

When I was a teenager, my mother gave me the famous “talk” when I asked pointed questions. She wasted no time or words. There was no poetic, flowery euphemisms used to replace the words or phrases many parents wished to avoid using. She made sure I knew what she was referring to and gave me the medical name and the street names of the anatomical parts. I asked her asked her about intercourse once and I was blushing from head to toe when she finished, I knew a vagina was also a pussy, cunt, and twat and a host of other names. She gave me an actual tour of the female reproductive system using her body as a demonstration model and having me mirror her actions on my body. I was beet red as we sat there naked in my bedroom having the “talk” and not to mention very moist.

Questions, I had many and if I was not sure she would show me the pertinent part of the anatomy in question, either hers or mine. I would have asked many, but I was too terrified as to her reaction. I was glad I never asked her about a penis, she probably would have dragged my Dad in by his. She educated me and the next day I had an OB/GYN appointment, the first of many. I was on birth control as soon as the doctor thought it was practical. They would be no accidents for me my mother assured me.

My body developed, I had breasts, and not just swellings, early in high school, my hips flared and I had curves, my mother’s curves, her raven black hair and dark piercing eyes. Most dangerous of all I learned how to us my physical attributes to get what I wanted. Boys would trip over themselves to please me and I would use that to my advantage.

I wore tight revealing clothes that push the limits on the prudish Victorian school dress code. Always low cut tops that revealed too much breast and jeans that were too tight and skirts that were barely called skirts. I had sexy underwear, no cute panties with the name of the days on them. I had Victoria Secrets, and other top line lingerie stores merchandise adorning my body and some days none. I was very much aware of my sexuality and I employed it whenever I could. Mom had taught me well.

I had retained my virginity during high school, but college was a different place. My virginity was sacrificed during my freshman year. Jason was a good looking boy, on his way to becoming a man. He reminded me of my father, maybe that is why he got to take my cherry. No, he had his own qualities one of which he was well endowed. His penis was thick and long. The rumor was that he could make a girl squeal with delight as he took her. We dated for most of the freshmen year and he tried to get into my pants on many occasions. After many futile, frustrating attempts he charmed my pants off me on a warm spring evening on a warm summer’s eve.

It was not the best sex I have ever had, but as first times go it was enjoyable and required to be repeated. Sexual liaisons were frequent during my college years and I honed my sexual skills to enable me to entice men. I had become naughty but not a slut. Now, in my junior year I was very selective of who were the benefactors of my feminine charms.

It was imperative that I had an escort to The Black and Silver Ball. Mark was my college mate and sort of a bad boy. He worked in receiving in my dad’s company for a summer job; I thought he would make a perfect escort for me, because I knew my parents would disapprove of him and I could show my rebellious side. He has an athletic build, rich wavy brown hair, and sensual brown eyes and was on the Track Team at college I drooled at the thought of him like a teenage school girl.

Later that day I found my way to the Receiving and made some small talk with him. We caught up on the latest gossip from school and I causally asked him if he would be interested in escorting me to the Black & Silver Ball.

Mark replied, “I don’t usually go to those society functions, as that is not my circle of friends. It would be my pleasure to escort a beautiful woman such as yourself to the ball; if you are willing to be seen with likes of me.”

I looked into his alluring brown eyes, gave him a sly smile, “you will not regret your decision Mr. Snow, you will have a time that you will remember for a long time.” I seductively said as I turned on my heel and walked away from him.

He stood there; ogling at the swell of my butt in the tight skirt I was wearing and smiled as I disappeared around the corner. As soon as I returned to my cubicle in the administrative area, I quickly prepared an envelope for him that contained detailed all the pertinent information about the ball. A car and driver would pick him up and then he could then pick me up. I placed a small drop of my perfume on the envelope, and placed it in the outgoing office mail so he would receive it later that day.

I took great care in preparing for the ball. I chose a strapless black gown for the ball that was slit to the top of my right thigh and was accentuated by a silver band around the waist and narrow sliver stripe that ran to the hem of the gown. The gown was low cut top, befitting to my breasts. Under the gown, a small silver thong which barley covered my feminine charms, but hugged them seductively, would nestle between my thighs. A pair of black holdups with a delicate lace tops graced my slender legs and a pair of black leather heels adorned my feet. I wore a simple pearl choker and combed my raven black hair straight; it draped over my left shoulder cascaded down onto my left breast.

Mark arrived at my apartment in a long shiny black Lincoln limousine. He rang my bell, in more ways than one, and entered the apartment when I opened the door. His six foot frame was adorned with a black tux, a crisp black shirt and without a tie. His wavy brown hair was combed straight back. He wore a pair Stacy-Adams shoes that sparkled in the light. He looked like a model that just stepped out of a GQ photo shoot. He had a single full white rose with a short stem which he offered me.

“What am I supposed to do with this? I inquired with an impish grin.

He smiled, looked at me and removed the rose from the palm of my hand, “May I?”

Taking the rose, he slipped the rose stem between my breasts and with nibble fingers pinned it to the bodice of my gown; the beautiful white rose was nestled in the cleavage of my breasts.

“The beauty of the rose pales in comparison to your beauty, Miss Powers.” Mark observed as he took my hand and kissed the back of it.

He took my arm and escorted me to the awaiting limousine which whisked us off to the Black & Silver Ball. In the limo, we sipped champagne and made small talk. Mark told me how stunning I looked tonight. A girl never tires from those compliments and I blushed slightly.

I repaid his compliments and said “Well you clean-up pretty well yourself.” I leaned over and kissed his cheek, my breasts brushing against his arm. It was his turn to blush.

We arrived at the event entered the stately museum, Mark presented our invitation, we were welcomed and directed to the receiving line. There, just a few feet from us, there were the most elite of the society, the hosts and the most prestigious residents of the City.


We were announced. The man boomed, “Presenting Miss Briana Powers and her escort Mr. Mark Snow.”

We made our way down the reception line, shaking hands of dour old men and silvered haired women whose breasts were displayed and the receiving line looked similar to a graphic relief map of the Rocky Mountains. We made the obligatory small talk and finally reached the end of the line. At the end of the line and off to the side, I saw my parents standing, waiting for me to make the proper introductions.

We approached my parents and I introduced Mark to them, and complimented them on the lovely couple they made. Dad shook my Mark’s hand and look at him hard. It was one of those looks that says I know you but from where? I remained silent. Mark charmed my mother mentioned her beauty and trotted out the old line about being my sister. She flashed her perfect, practiced, social smile.

She whispered in my ear “mmm… you are going to be a lucky girl tonight.”

I just gave her a naughty smile and “Oh really, Mother?” and took Mark’s arm.

Nestled close to Mark I could feel his body heat as we walked into the dining room. The room was starting to fill and we found our table. As t I could feel the wetness and the fabric clinging to my crotch as I moved, like a bonus covering to my vulva. The first arrive, I quickly checked out the names on the place settings made a quick change of one couple’s card to another table. She was bitch and he had wandering fingers. I was not getting groped unless it was Mark who was doing the groping. Our table quickly filled; the social small talk ensued as the first course was present to the guests. The speakers were constant at the head table and the evening flowed seamlessly.

I rested my hand on Mark’s muscular thigh and squeezed it gently. I was at the mid-thigh point and was advancing north at a rapid pace. Mark looked up from his plate and shifted his concentration from the Cabernet Filet Mignon resting on his plate, to the glint dancing in my eyes. A thin mischievous smile and a little wink told me he was ready to play. By the time the dessert course had been served my hand was firmly embedded at the apex of his thighs and feeling the warm growing package concealed in his trousers.

Mark managed to slip his muscular hand under the slit of my gown and managed to coax my love juices to saturate the soft fabric of my small, silver thong. I could feel the wetness and the fabric clinging to my crotch as I moved. I felt an inner tingle between my legs as he teased me to an exciting edge. He would bring me to the peak, so very close to a climax, and then back off a little. I stirred in my chair as he danced under my gown. I looked at him with my piercing black eyes, telling him to stop, but in reality I was begging for more.

The dinner completed, awards given and speeches made. The music drifted into dining room giving indication that playtime had begun. The danced floor had a few couples on who were dancing to the music. The music was slow and the type you would hear on an elevator. The current genre of music would be played after enough drinks had been consumed to loosen the moral of this stiff upper lip society crowd. I looked and watched as Mom Dad glided across the ballroom floor. My Dad’s hand rested on the inviting curve of her firm ass.

Mark led me to the dance floor and we progressed with more of an erotic wrestling match as opposed to the graceful waltz that was being played. He held me close, my breasts against his chest. I rubbed against his crotch and felt how excited he was. I could feel his bulge and he pushed against my mound keeping my thong soaked. His hand lay in the small of my back. Every now and then it would slide down and caress my firm ass cheeks before roaming up to the small of my back.

We moved slowly on the floor and mostly out of time to the music, maintaining our own beat; I could feel it, our dance harmonized to my heartbeat. As the music stopped, we drifted out of the crowded room in search of our own dance floor. Occasionally, I would reciprocate and squeeze his muscular buttocks. Hmm… so firm, I thought.

We entered the almost deserted hallway; my heels clicked vociferously on the marble floors and echoed off the tall granite walls of the museum. There were some more couples near the entrance enjoying the cool air. We turned to the left, away from the entrance, the people and proceeded down the main concourse. Arm in arm, seeking a secluded niche, one, in which we could dance to our own music.

Off to the side laid a long narrow dark hallway. A white marble bench, barely visible, sat in peaceful repose, at the end of the diffusely illuminated hallway. The bench seemed to summon us, to invite us, to share the sensual quiet solitude of the dark passageway. Looking into each other’s eyes, a very slight salacious smile crept across our faces. Turning into the narrow hall, we slipped into the cool darkness and stood next to the bench and with grace I slipped my heels off. Standing there in the dark passageway we embraced and our lips met.

At first it was just a light kiss and then our lips parted. His thick tongue invaded my mouth and gratified my tongue. I felt a jolt, a tingle travel through my body leaving me wanting more. The music from the ballroom drifted on the cool evening air and enhanced this magical moment. Mark pushed me backwards till my back was pressed against the cool granite walls of the corner. He cupped my chin and kissed me deeply, probing my mouth with his tongue.

Our tongues danced a sultry tango, before his tongue slipped out. I felt his hot breathe on my neck and his lips caressing my neck. Wedged in the dark corner I felt his hand slip under my gown.

His hand was resting on my wet soft silver thong, his finger hooking the waistband and sliding the thong off my hips. I felt his gentle touch, as he maneuvered my thong to the point where the silver thong just glided down my black hold ups and pooled in a disheveled pile of wet silk at my ankles. I cautiously stepped out of them and flicked them next to my heels. His hand rested on my sex, feeling the warmth and then he eased his finger between my engorged, deep pink lips instigating a slight tremble in my loins from his touch. He moved his finger up my furrow to open my clitoris to his touch.

I uttered a low guttural moan and thrust my hips to meet his sensuous touch. He tickled my clit; his hand cupped my mound, palming the manicured black carpet. For some inexplicable reason, I had decided to trim the bush for summer. To his favor, I kept my lips smooth and shaved. I laughed dreamily as he stroked my pussy; it quivered to his slow and deliberate touch and I trembled all over. His worked his way to my cleavage and began kissing it tenderly.

My nipples were erect and my breasts ached to be kissed by his lascivious lips. All common sense has abandoned me. My inner slut within me is now in command of my body. She is wide open and is without restraints.

I pull the top of my gown down and expose my ample breasts for Mark’s pleasure. My ample breasts are full and swollen. The areolas are large and dark and my nipples are long, very stiff and throbbing. I need them to be suckled; to have his warm mouth over my nipple and his tongues tickling them. Grabbing his head, I guide him to my bust. He opens his mouth and takes my sensitive tits, one after the other; after sucking a nipple, he bites and tweaks it gently. I shriek and the sound echoes off the granite walls. We embrace tightly; he grinds his groin against my crotch. His mouth covers my excited nipples and he sucks on my breast and he takes the hard nipple between his teeth and pulls on them. . The once cool wall is as hot as I am.

I whisper “I want more!”

Mark kisses me, offers his hand; I take it we walk to the foot of the marble bench. Facing him, I kiss him lightly on the lips, and I unfasten my gown and letting it slide down my body.

I stand before Mark, naked with the exception of my black hold ups and with the lace tops with silver seams. The lace offsets my vulva with the white lips framed with the fine, carpet of black pubic hair. I cock one leg and let him enjoy my body.

Then I reach over and unfasten his trousers and slide the trousers and his white boxers to the floor. With nimble fingers I remove his jacket, tie and his shirt. Like me, he stands nude, in the narrow hallway with the silver lambent light.

My hand grips his erection and I feel his balls. I kneel before my naked Adonis. He is not overly endowed but has a very nice package and would make any girl happy. I lean forward and my tongue darts out and devours the pre-cum resting on the head of his cock. With my pussy throbbing I do not intend to waste a lot time here. I slip the head of his swollen cock between my lips.

My lips closed on him just under his head, my tongue slithers on his length, and in the opening of the head of his glans. I feel him stiffen and he spreads his legs. My lips slid down his hot shaft and my tongue slithered on his length. I took his cock deep in my throat and fondled his heavy balls. My head bobbed like a sewing machine, teasing and bringing him close to a climax. I popped his cock from my mouth before he could cum. Then I stood and gave him a kiss, pulling his naked hard body to mine.

As the kiss breaks I sit on the end of the marble bench and slide my buttocks across the smooth, cool sensual marble and draped my legs on each side of the bench. I lay on the cool marble slab, legs splayed and I look at Mark. Standing above me, his cock erect and pointing upwards, I look at him and wiggle my index finger in a come here motion. Mark grins, kneels between my legs, and then with the head of his cock poised at the opening of my pussy. I grasp it with one hand and I open my lips with the other hand and I let him push his cannon into my cunt. I felt him slide in and my pussy clinching him as he pushed into my steamy vaginal passage.

I feel him sliding in and out of my wet pussy. The dribbling juice from my pussy and pools on the marble bench; I moan as he fucks me, each stroke harder than the last, his thick cock pounds my pampered pussy. My hips buck to coincide with his thrusts. I moan as he fucked me, making each stroke harder than the previous one and his pubic bone slams into my crotch as we make love.

I am awash with orgasmic jolts as he makes me cum. With each push I experience that intense feeling that I crave. I feel his torso strain as he drives his swollen shaft deep down into my cunt. My pussy quivers and my muscles clinch to hold his cock deep in me. I feel his thick rich cum flood from his cock and fill my hole. Holding his balls, I feel his felt his thick rich cum gushing into my vitals as he shoots his load up his shaft and into me. I climax with him. Our juices intermingle; it was the moment when we danced to the crescendo of our own music.

Then still bonded together in an erotic euphoria, we kiss for a final time and Mark raises his hips pulling his shaft out of my spent, wet, satiated pussy.

The lace tops of my hold ups are statured with cum. With my finger, I dip into my honey pot and I extract some of our nectar, which I offer to my lover. Mark quickly grasps my fingers and licks the cum from them. He reciprocates the offer with his fingers. I open my mouth and clean his cum dripping fingers. We kissed briefly, gathered our rumpled clothes and quickly dress.

I look back as we walk away; only a dark stain on the marble bench accentuated by a crumpled white rose, lingered to suggest our erotic dance on the night of the Black & Silver Ball.

This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.

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