Mask, it can be a movie with Cher or a key to sensual encounters with spritely young lesbians. On Saturday night I entered the world of the masked entertainer at the Wickham Hotel..... it was the Pride Carnivale after party. My first roving outfit was a lovely ballroom frock in lace and organza teamed with a rubber zebra mask. With the mask completely covering my head I could only experience the club through the mouth and nostrils of the zebra, I could see the light up floor and many pairs of breasts which were proudly on display.
Masks have the ability to break down boundaries and dissolve inhibitions, Saturday night was no exception. When the zebra appeared on the dance floor the girls pounced, pawing, stroking and grabbing me for photos. I could smell many bouquets of girly perfume, I could feel denim and lycra and overheating flesh under latex tube dresses. After about 2 minutes I had decided that this is the best roving gig I had ever taken.
Then they started peering down the nostrils of the mask, trying to see if there was something nice inside or if there was really a scrubber under there. Over again the mask filled with the heady scent of vodka and lip gloss infused breath. There was lots of mask licking and one girl jammed a cigarette in the Zebra’s mouth. At one point I had three females attached to my body grinding away at my legs, I felt like a rock covered in lesbian limpets. After begging me to show my face I lifted my mask for a pretty little dark haired girl, she was pleased and I apologised for the pool of sweat that came gushing out of the rubber mask. Somewhere in the blind sensation of hugging, petting and dancing I’m pretty sure someone bit my boob, but I guess I’ll never know.
When the next costume was due I changed in to my “Disco Duck” outfit. Disco Duck was a one hit wonder from 1976, it is one of the most bizarre and inexplicable pop songs of the 20th century. The song was closely followed up by “Disgorilla” that was just shit. My Disco Duck costume is a skimpy lingerie set covered in rubber ducks. The ducks were greeted with keen dancing partners but not the cheeky abandon stirred up by the zebra.
The last roving outfit was a plush lion, back into full mask. Everyone wanted to hug the lion who looks like a giant soft toy except that the fur onesie has an open flap at the back where a human arse peeps out. I love to approach people skipping and waving my hands like a happy, stuffed toy then turn around to show them my bare arse, I think it gives the audience a thrill too. I peeped through the hole under the lion’s chin, a big bear (ie big hairy man) said to me “you’re a lovely boy” then he grabbed me tight and growled near my ear “Yes you are a lovely boy, you can sleep in my bed any night.” It wasn’t till a later discussion with friends that I realised most people probably thought I was a boy. Yes there are boys who have an arse like mine and the rest of me was covered. Most probably didn’t even think I was an entertainer, they probably thought I was a Plushie living out my fetish on the dance floor. If you don’t know what a Plushie is, google it, that is your homework.
PS. I’d like to thank the Wickham Hotel for a great night, please have me back (SOON!)