by Vicki Mock
“Here, honey” I said, “put this on.” We stood before the mirror, and I handed her the mask. It was very thin and light, almost insubstantial–an oval of translucent tan rubber with some coloring on the lips and cheeks, and it was wet from being held under the faucet briefly. She took it from me and examined it. She had shown reluctance to do this in the past, but she had resolved, for the sake of our relationship I suppose, to go along with my desires. “OK, how do I do it, like this?” she said as she brought it to her face and pressed it on. `Press firmly,” I said, ” and the natural suction will keep it stuck to your skin.” She ran her hands firmly all over her face, pressing hard around the edges and under her chin. She turned her face away from me and grabbed a towel which she pressed even harder to her face. “I think that will do it” I said, eager to look at her. She put the towel down, arranged her bangs, and then we both looked in the mirror. I couldn’t believe my eyes! Another woman stood before me. Her lips were full, her chin cleft, her cheekbones higher and more prominent. An Eva Gardner look alike, or perhaps some Sofia Loren, I thought.
“Do you like it?” she asked. How strange, I immediately thought, to hear my wife’s voice coming out of another woman’s mouth. I couldn’t take my eyes off her, but I was embarrassed by my feelings of erotic passion. Why did I find this so exciting? What incident in my past made me so tuned to this ritual that I could scarcely express myself sexually without thoughts of masks creeping into my consciousness? She looked at me, reading my mind.
Although she was not entirely comfortable wearing it at first, to her own surprise, her new appearance turned her on. “Let’s go” she whispered, and leaning over, kissed me passionately, holding my head in her hands. I smelled the mask, a new odor, mixed with her familiar scent. The full rubber lips were soft, entirely natural feeling, and her tongue slipped into my mouth. We went to the bedroom.
I awoke as light first crept into the bedroom–it was still quite early. We had an incredible night. I looked over and noted with surprise and a jolt of excitement that she was still wearing the mask. She meant to take it off but must have fallen asleep.
As I looked at her, my member growing rock hard, she opened her eyes. “What?” she said sleepily, and then realizing, reached to touch her face and said “Oh, I forgot…”
“Leave it on,” I said softly. She became more awake, looking at me with interest.
“I’ve got things to do,” she said. “Do them like that,” I said, “no one will know you are wearing a disguise–it’s absolutely real. I can’t see any seams–it looks like skin, and it is taken on some of the aspects of your face–your expression lines, wrinkles-because it is stuck so tight.” She looked at me with alarm. “No, it’s OK–it will peel right off. But just leave it on for a while longer. Promise me you won’t take it off until I say so.”
She looked at me with a smile: my wife’s smile, yet intriguingly like another person’s. She knew this was a game, and she wanted to play–my excitement was getting her excited.
“OK, I promise I won’t take it off until you say so, or maybe not until I feel like it…”
We made love again.