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I had a cloak at home that would go perfectly with this outfit. I had just two more stores to hit before going home. I headed for the mall and a store called Cutlery Works. They carried knives, swords and everything that goes with them. I had been looking at a sword and dagger set for a few weeks to add to my collection. Now I was going to get it, it was the perfect touch to my costume. The blade was long, belted on at my waist the tip was at my ankle, and about 2 ½ to 3 inches wide. The hilt was bone, wrapped in silver wire and fit my hand perfectly. The dagger was a perfect twin, just smaller, about a foot long and about 1 inch wide. That just left the mask. I went to my favorite craft store and found a semi-sheer, blood red, cloth. I bought half a yard (1 ½ feet) and a yard of black silk cord. Everything else I needed for my mask I had already at home. Once I got home I went into my room, closed the door and pulled out the cloth for my mask. In just a few minutes I had a. My erection was now poking through my pajamas and I buried my face in her soft, smooth neck and began to shower it with licks and sloppy kisses. Stop it Amit! I have to go to the office. You’ll ruin my dress!” Her tone has shifted from a playful one to a very angry one as she tried harder to push me off her.But I let my anger take control of the sexual play as I tightened my grip on her hands and pinned them forcefully above her head. I used my left hand to pull down the pallu of her saree and expose her blouse, while rubbing my pajama-covered penis on her bare tummy. I could see the faint red color of the bra underneath the blouse and it increased my rage-filled desire to ravish her fiercely.Amit, please leave me Amit….Please…I have to go to the office…Please Amit,” Shalu began to plead. I could see tears forming in her eyes. For a moment, I wondered if she really did feel as used and violated as I did or if she was just scared that I would question her about the new bra and panties.
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Across the alley I see him standing there, dressed in a pair of ass stomping military style boots, black jeans and a shirt baring the image of some popular Japanese cartoon. He has red hair, not natural Irish red, but dyed fire engine red hair that might have looked ridiculous on a normal man. Nothing looks stupid on a man of six and half feet who weighs nearly three hundred pounds. Particularly not when he’s glaring at you, he could have dyed his hair pink and worn a pink polka dot sundress and I still would have kept a straight face. ‘Sup man?’ I ask trying to keep my voice steady. My body already flushing with that intoxicating rush of chemicals needed to burst into action be it flight or fight. He doesn’t respond, just takes another step toward me letting me get a better look at him. I can see his well-trimmed goatee now, extending nearly a full inch below his chin. If he were closer to my size he’d be the spitting image of my best friend Eric. For a moment I still thought.

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