Costume Mistake (fm:adultery, 2038 words)

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Bodies pressed closer in the dense crowd, the heat becoming a physical weight. The cheap costume fabric did nothing to mute the feeling of Liam's firm chest against Ellie's spine, the hard line of his thighs against the backs of Ellie's legs. It was no longer just a costume. It was a confession in polyester, an unavoidable truth.

The polyester of the monster suit was already stifling. Inside the mascot head, Liam's breath came in hot, damp pants, fogging the mesh eye holes. Beside him, crammed into the costume's other half, was Ellie. His business partner's wife. They were pressed together from shoulder to hip, their bodies a single, sweating unit inside the ridiculous, fuzzy prison.

"Remind me why we agreed to this?" Ellie's voice was a tight, amused whisper in the dark, humid cavity.

"Community goodwill," Liam grunted, his own voice echoing weirdly in the confined space. "And your husband offered me a stupid amount of money."

A laugh, breathy and close. "That sounds like Mark."

They were the main attraction at the town's summer carnival, a lumbering, cheerful bear meant to hug children and pose for pictures. But now, the family area was closed, and the costume was their penance for the evening's final event: a chaperoned dance in the community hall. They were supposed to just... amble around.

"I think I'm actually melting," she muttered, wiping her face with a limp napkin.

The music from the hall thumped through the floor, a bass line that vibrated up through their shared soles. They shuffled inside the suit, a two-legged, awkward beast moving toward the noise. With each step, her hip bumped his. His arm, looped around the inside of the bear's torso, was pressed against the side of her breast.

It was an accident.

Then it wasn't.

Inside the costume, every shift was magnified. The slick slide of her dress against his cotton shirt. The heat of her thigh through the fabric. The dance floor was packed, a sea of laughing, oblivious people. They began to move with the music because standing still was more suspicious. A simple sway.

Then a faster song erupted.

The crowd pressed in, jostling the giant bear. Ellie lost her footing for a second, stumbling back into him. His free hand, the one not guiding the costume's front, shot out to steady her, landing flat on her stomach, just below her ribs. He felt her abdomen contract in a sharp gasp. The thin dress, the warmth of her skin beneath.

He didn't move his hand.

And she didn't pull away.

Instead, she ground back against him, a slow, deliberate roll of her hips that had nothing to do with the rhythm of the song. The firm swell of her ass met the growing hardness in his trousers. A direct, unmistakable contact. Electric. Forbidden.

Oh, fuck.

His fingers flexed on her stomach, pulling her tighter against him. His other arm tightened around her chest, his forearm now firmly lodged under the curve of her breast. He could feel her heart hammering against his arm. Or maybe it was his own.

She let her head fall back against his shoulder, the mascot head tilting comically. Her whisper was a hot ghost against his neck. "This is insane."

"Yes." His voice was gravel.

Her hand came up, finding his thigh inside the suit. She squeezed, the pressure travelling straight to his cock. He bit back a groan, his hips pushing forward of their own volition. The friction was maddening through the layers of clothing—blindingly good and nowhere near enough. They were moving now, a clumsy, sensual shuffle in the middle of the crowd, their secret dance hidden within the bear's cheerful shimmy.

Need more. Have to have more.

The thought was a drumbeat matching the bass. He slid his hand from her stomach down, over the soft silk covering her hip, to the hem of her dress. He pushed it up, inch by inch. She gasped again, a sharp intake of air, and pressed her ass back harder, an open invitation. She could feel his hardness press against her ass. His fingers found the edge of her lace panties. He traced the line, feeling her tremble.

He looked through the mesh. A photo booth stood in a dim corner of the hall, its curtain only half-drawn. A sliver of shadow. An escape.

"Corner. Now," he rasped.

They moved as one, a lurching, desperate bear heading for sanctuary. They bumped past a group of teenagers, earning a laugh, and finally backed into the shallow alcove of the booth. The curtain, a thick vinyl rectangle, fell mostly closed behind the costume, hiding the lower half of the bear from the waist down.

Inside, it was a world of heated darkness and frantic hands. He yanked the mascot head up just enough to free their faces, the stale air a sudden relief. He didn't kiss her mouth—that felt too intimate, too much like a betrayal beyond what they were already doing. Instead, he buried his face in the sweat-damp column of her neck, biting down gently on the strap of her dress as his hands worked.

He pushed her dress up to her waist. She fumbled with his belt, her fingers nimble and urgent. The metallic clink was loud in their private space. She shoved his trousers and briefs down just enough, freeing him. He was painfully hard, aching.

"Condom?" she breathed, her hand wrapping around him, a stroke that made his vision blur.

"No."

"Doesn't matter, I need to have your cock in me now." She grabbed his cock and hooked a leg back around his hip, guiding him. He held her steady, her back to his chest, and pressed forward.

The first breach was a slow, torturous, perfect invasion. She was tight and hot and wet, so wet he could feel it even through the latex. A choked sob caught in her throat, muffled against the costume's fur. He filled her completely, their bodies joined in the most primal way inside this absurd, furry cocoon.

God. Yes.

He began to move. Short, shallow thrusts at first, constrained by the space and the need for silence. But the sensation was overwhelming. The slick, clutching heat of her. The way her inner muscles fluttered around him with each tiny movement. The frantic, quiet panting in his ear.

He wrapped one arm around her chest, his hand splaying over her heart, feeling its frantic beat. His other hand slipped down from her hip, over the lace edge of her panties now pushed to the side, and found the swollen nub of her clit.

She jerked against him, a full-body shudder. "Liam."

He rubbed tight, quick circles, matching the rhythm of his thrusts. Their breathing became a ragged, syncopated duet. He could feel her tightening around him, her body coiling like a spring. The risk, the publicness, the sheer wrongness of it all—it didn't matter. It fuelled them. This was about need, a raw, unbearable hunger that had found its outlet.

Her climax hit her silently, violently. Her mouth opened in a soundless scream against the fur, her back arching, her inner walls clenching around him in rhythmic, milking pulses that dragged his own release up from the base of his spine. He thrust deeper, burying himself to the hilt as his own orgasm tore through him, a white-hot rush of pleasure that left him shuddering, his forehead pressed against the back of the mascot head, seeing stars in the darkness.

For a long moment, they stayed like that, joined, trembling, dripping with sweat in the polyester oven. The music from the hall swelled. A flash went off—someone taking a picture in the other half of the photo booth, utterly unaware of the scene unfolding beside them.

Slowly, carefully, he withdrew. They made quick, hushed work of putting themselves back together, their movements clumsy with aftershocks. He lowered the bear head back into place. The world returned, bright and loud and oblivious.

They stood there, hidden behind the curtain, two married people who were not married to each other, bound together now by a secret far stickier than any costume.

From outside, a voice called, "Hey! Mr. Bear! Photo with my kids?"

Ellie's voice, miraculously steady, echoed from within the suit. "Just... just a moment. Paws are stuck."

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Jan writes Wed 14 Jan 2026 19:53:

Funny and surprisingly erotic.

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Jan writes Wed 14 Jan 2026 19:53:

Funny and surprisingly erotic.

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