Erotica – Cultural Appreciation
Expanding your cultural horizons is a good thing – especially if it includes sex! Enjoy this week’s erotica submission, brought to us by horsecav.
By horsecav
Look, I’ll be the first to admit that opera isn’t for everyone. You either have to have a true appreciation for the art form or be clinically insane to sit through some of the works out there. I’d met Jennifer when I was working at a classical radio station. She’d shown up at one of the live remote broadcasts for one Arts group or another and hung out for awhile. Yes, we do get groupies, even in classical radio; granted most of them are nice grandmotherly types, but every blue moon or so a looker appears on the horizon. After we had wrapped up the broadcast and the gear was being packed she was still there, hovering just on the outskirts of the activity of the crew. When all was stowed and the van on its way back to the station, I approached her and struck up a conversation. We went through the normal questions: how did I get into radio; why classical; who’s my favorite composer; yadda yadda yadda. We seemed to have a bit in common so I asked her if she’d like to have dinner that night followed by some light opera at the local performance venue. She agreed she could work me into her schedule and I told her I’d pick her up at 6.
I pulled up to her apartment building, a nice condo establishment, and when she opened the door I was extremely glad she’d said “Yes.” Jennifer, who was close to my 5′ 11″ anyway, was stunningly statuesque in black 4″ spiked heels that had incredible legs clad in black hose rising up past a hemline that fell just at the knee. The skirt was topped with a black patent leather belt with a shine any drill sergeant would have drooled over. Over the ensemble was a short jacket cut low in the front revealing some delicious looking cleavage that was contained by a black satin under-wired top. Now, I’m an avowed leg man, but my standards were in danger of changing then and there. Even in a suit I felt underdressed. She stood there in the couple of seconds it took for me to regain my composure with a bemused look on her face, noted that it was obvious I approved of her attire, and allowed me to take her arm as we headed for my truck (hey, I may be classically trained, but it’s still Texas). As I held her door open, it was everything I could do to not stare at her legs as she climbed into the cab, though I did notice a slight hint of lace peek out from under the hem at one point leading me to believe she was wearing stockings. She still had that grin on her face as she sat down and swung her legs in.
Dinner was great: steaks and a fine merlot, and the restaurant wasn’t far from the opera house so we walked in the evening breeze to the ticket office. One of the perks of classical radio, or any type of radio for that matter, is the ability to pick up the phone and say “I need tickets to….” and they’re waiting for you at Will Call, free of charge. We had a quick glass of champagne, and settled into our seats waiting for the opera to start. There’s not a feeling in the world like when you walk into a room and most of the male eyes turn toward you and gaze longingly at your companion. That rush accompanied us to our seats. Jennifer was positively radiant, and I was glad to be where I was right then and there. Finally, the lights dimmed, the conductor took his place, and with a sweep of the baton led the orchestra into the overture. Jennifer reached her arm through mine and leaned over toward me, hugging my elbow against her breast. Maybe it was the singers; maybe it was the whole performance; maybe it was the feel of Jennifer breathing against my elbow; whatever it was, I’d never enjoyed a first act more than that night.
During intermission we found a table in the bar and talked about the opera. The nice thing about Gilbert & Sullivan is it’s in English and usually pretty witty, even when written in formal Victorian prose. Jennifer’s eyes sparkled as she talked about the first act, and I’m pretty sure I had a stupid grin on my face as I listened to her. We were having such a delightful conversation we hadn’t noticed everyone else depart the bar until a waiter politely coughed and announced that the second act had started. We quietly stole back into the hall but wouldn’t be able to make it to our seats until there was a scene change, so we stayed against a wall just off the doors. I leaned against the wall, which was topped by the next level of seats about 6 feet over our heads. The action on stage was taking place at night so the set was dimly lit. Jennifer looked over her shoulder at me, smiled, and leaned back against me. I wrapped my arms around her waist as she placed her hands over mine and we watched the scene.
About 2 minutes into this, Jennifer pushed back a bit and began to slowly wiggle her ass against me. Needless to say, I had a slight reaction to this and started getting hard. This must have been what she was looking for, because I felt her push back a little more firmly. I leaned my head forward and kissed the nape of her neck under the upsweep of her hair. Jennifer responded, moving her hands to the back and sides and rubbing my hips, pulling me harder against her as she leaned her head back. I kissed the side of her neck as my hands slipped up under the front of her jacket. To my surprise, the satin top turned out to be a bustier as my fingers traced the pattern of the boning on the sides, finally resting on the low rise of the cups that were practically overflowing with breasts… breasts that were moving in the most amazing way as her breathing deepened. Jennifer’s hands left my sides and, with the slightest rustle of material, began lifting the hem of her skirt allowing her to shift her legs farther apart. Even through the front of my pants I could feel the heat of her skin as the hem rose above the cheeks of her ass. My hands pushed her breasts out of the cups, spilling them out warm and soft, and I felt the hard nipples against my palms as I began to softly knead them. Jennifer’s legs were now far enough apart that her feet were outside mine. She reached back and began to massage my cock through the front of my pants, finally pulling the zipper down and reaching in to grab it and pull it out. The touch of her naked ass against my hard cock was electric; to this day I have no idea why I didn’t just explode right there. I continued to rub her breasts and tweak her nipples, kissing her neck as she rubbed the head of my throbbing cock against her ass, all the while slowly moving her hips. It was then I realized she wasn’t wearing panties. I took a moment to glance at the hall. We were surrounded by nearly 3,000 people, all intently watching “The Pirates of Penzance,” oblivious to what was going on in their midst. I remember thinking, “This is the thing you read about that never happens to you.” Finally, I felt Jennifer arch back against me, slipping my cock between her legs and moving the head across the most wonderful combination of moist and heat I’d ever felt. I thanked God for long legs and spiked heels as she reached around from in front and worked the head into the opening of her wet pussy, raising ever so slightly on her toes and settling back down. It was magic, there’s no other way to describe the sensation as she moved her hips down and I slid all the way inside. We stayed perfectly still for at least a minute, breathing together. Jennifer finally moved her hands to my hips again, and I slipped my right hand down from her breast, pushing the belt up, into the waist of her skirt and across the garter belt to rest between her legs. My middle finger found the nub of her clit and began rubbing it as Jennifer started moving her hips up and down on my cock.
Thank God for loud operatic choruses. That’s the only way I can think nobody heard us. Every nasal passage within 50 feet must have been stuffed up, too, because I know the air was alive with the smell of sex.
The entire experience was starting to get a little too intense, and I knew there was no way I was going to be able to hold out much longer. I started massaging Jennifer’s clit harder and faster, which caused her to garb harder to my hips and work her ass faster. The race was on to see who was going to cum first. Every time she pushed back against me I could hear her breath come out in little gasps as my cock buried itself all the way inside her driving pussy. I have to admit, I was doing a bit of heavy breathing myself against her neck. It wasn’t going to be much longer. The voices on stage were singing louder and louder, the orchestra volume swelling to just beneath their vocal level. My finger was now rubbing her clit side to side as fast as I could move it, like a second valve trilling on a trumpet, playing her swollen button as rapidly as possible. Jennifer kept her ass and hips moving in an increasing rhythm that was going to push me over the edge. I made one last squeeze on her left breast, pinching the nipple hard, and pushed just as hard on her clit as I moved my hips forward to meet her pushing. Buried deep in her pussy, orchestra and chorus reaching the boisterous conclusion of the scene, I exploded. Jennifer hit the high notes, too. We held onto each other, me supporting her with my left arm under her breast and right hand holding her pussy, she holding onto my hips with fistfuls of trouser material bunched in her fingers. Her head back, I could hear her whimpering, trying to control her sounds as she spasmed in orgasm. I just buried my face into the back of her neck and prayed I wouldn’t pass out, dropping us both into an embarrassed heap on the floor. Gradually the waves washed over the both of us; breathing started a slow return to normal. As the cast made their singing exits onstage, Jennifer and I disengaged, ever so slowly. I noticed that, as her skirt again fell into place, she reached into her small clutch and removed a kerchief, which she quickly pushed up under her hem and into her drenched pussy, keeping my contribution to the Arts in place and not soiling the upholstery.
The audience was applauding loudly as the curtain came down, allowing the stage crew to change the scene and Jennifer and I to move to our seats. As we again settled in, I glanced at my watch: the entire episode had taken less than 15 minutes from the time we had entered the hall until we resumed our places. Jennifer once again looped her arm through mine and leaned over and kissed my ear, blowing warm air into it and whispering a husky, “Thank you,” as the curtain opened once again.
Art. You gotta love it.
