At the Opera

<body topmargin=0 leftmargin=0 marginheight=0 marginwidth=0> <table cellpadding=0 cellspacing=0 border=0 height="100%"><tr> <td valign="top" width=260 BGCOLOR="#000000" TEXT="#F7F7FF"> <bR> <bR> <div> <A HREF="index.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="LeKnight at Bluewater"><U><I><B><IMG SRC="1b723230.jpg" border=0 width="35" height="35" ALIGN="LEFT" HSPACE="1" VSPACE="0"></B></I></U></A><FONT SIZE="2" COLOR="#99CCFF" FACE="Arial" ><A HREF="index.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="LeKnight at Bluewater"><U><I><B>Debaucherous Tales</B></I></U></A></FONT></div> <div> <A HREF="index.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="LeKnight at Bluewater"><U><I><B>Directory</B></I></U></A></div> <bR> <bR> <div> <A HREF="http://www.blue1water.com/spa/" TARGET="_top" TITLE="http://www.blue1water.com/spa/"><U><I> Spanish .</I></U></A><FONT SIZE="2" COLOR="#FF6633" FACE="Arial" ><A HREF="http://www.blue1water.com/spa/" TARGET="_top" TITLE="http://www.blue1water.com/spa/"><U> Pages <IMG SRC="13d1e140.jpg" border=0 width="30" height="20" ALT="Spain" ALIGN="BOTTOM" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0"></U></A></FONT></div> <div> <A HREF="http://www.blue1water.com/spa/" TARGET="_top" TITLE="http://www.blue1water.com/spa/"><U>Páginas en Español</U></A><FONT SIZE="4" COLOR="#FF6633" FACE="Arial" ><A HREF="http://www.blue1water.com/spa/" TARGET="_top" TITLE="http://www.blue1water.com/spa/"><U> </U></A></FONT></div> <div> <A HREF="http://www.blue1water.com/spa/" TARGET="_top" TITLE="http://www.blue1water.com/spa/"><U><I>cuentos eróticos</I></U></A></div> <div> <I>And many thanks to Iruntxu for her translations to Spanish. </I></div> <div> <I>She just needs to learn to keep her fingers on the keyboard,</I></div> <bR> <bR> <div> <I><B>Art & Photos</B></I></div> <bR> <div> <I><B><IMG SRC="00920150.gif" border=0 width="32" height="21" ALIGN="BOTTOM" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0">   </B></I><FONT SIZE="3" COLOR="#00FFFF" FACE="Book Antiqua" ><A HREF="http://www.blue1water.com/art/" TARGET="_top" TITLE="http://www.blue1water.com/art/"><U><I>New Arts Image Section</I></U></A></FONT></div> <div> <A HREF="http://www.blue1water.com/art/" TARGET="_top" TITLE="http://www.blue1water.com/art/"><U>(Working to improve and expand)</U></A></div> <bR> <div> sssssssssss</div> <bR> <div>  <A NAME="ux_1_1"><IMG BORDER="0" SRC="1x1.gif" HEIGHT="1" ALIGN="bottom" WIDTH="1" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0" ></A><FONT SIZE="4" COLOR="#CCFFFF" FACE="Book Antiqua" ><I><B><IMG SRC="00c243c0.jpg" border=0 width="36" height="60" ALIGN="LEFT" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0"></B></I></FONT></div> <div> <I><B>    UX - Soyd   </B></I></div> <bR> <bR> <div> <I>Tales of decadence, debauchery,</I></div> <div> <I>lust, passion, desire, seduction,</I></div> <div> <I>etc. etc. etc. I think you get the</I></div> <div> <I>idea. - Mild to Wild . . . . . . .</I></div> <bR> <bR> <div> <A HREF="id84.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Ux Soyd"><U>Ux - Soyd</U></A></div> <div> <A HREF="id85.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Tender Thighs"><U>Tender Thighs</U></A></div> <div> <A HREF="id86.htm" TARGET="_top" 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TITLE="Off the Main"><U>Off the Main</U></A></div> <div> <B>At the Opera</B></div> <div> <A HREF="id109.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Batu Madison"><U>Batu Madison</U></A></div> <div> <A HREF="id110.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="After the Opera"><U>After the Opera</U></A></div> <div> <A HREF="id111.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Natural High"><U>Natural High</U></A></div> <div> <A HREF="id112.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Black Lace"><U>Black Lace</U></A></div> <div> <A HREF="id113.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="The Center"><U>The Center</U></A></div> <div> <A HREF="id114.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Logical Lust"><U>Logical Lust</U></A></div> <div> <A HREF="id115.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="A Voyage to Remember"><U>A Voyage to Remember</U></A></div> <div> <A HREF="id116.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="The Letter"><U>The Letter</U></A></div> <div> <A HREF="id117.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="The Carriage House"><U>The Carriage House</U></A></div> <div> <A HREF="id118.htm" TARGET="_top" 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Opera</div> <bR> <bR> <div> <A HREF="http://www.blue1water.com/id18.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="http://www.blue1water.com/id18.htm"><U><B><IMG SRC="1b420200.gif" border=0 width="32" height="32" ALIGN="LEFT" HSPACE="2" VSPACE="0">back to Main Directory </B></U></A><B>  </B><B>    </B><FONT SIZE="4" COLOR="#FFFFCC" FACE="Arial" ><IMG SRC="198262f0.jpg" border=0 width="38" height="47" ALT="Page has Sound" ALIGN="BOTTOM" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0"></FONT><B>   <IMG SRC="14719280.jpg" border=0 width="25" height="40" ALIGN="BOTTOM" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0"> </B><B><IMG SRC="14719280.jpg" border=0 width="25" height="40" ALIGN="BOTTOM" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0"> </B><B><IMG SRC="14719280.jpg" border=0 width="25" height="40" ALIGN="BOTTOM" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0"> </B><B><IMG SRC="14719280.jpg" border=0 width="25" height="40" ALIGN="BOTTOM" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0"> </B><B><IMG SRC="14719280.jpg" border=0 width="25" height="40" ALIGN="BOTTOM" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0"></B></div> <bR> <div> <A HREF="index.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="LeKnight at Bluewater"><U><B><IMG SRC="1b610110.jpg" border=0 width="16" height="17" ALIGN="BOTTOM" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0"> </B></U></A><FONT SIZE="2" COLOR="#33CCFF" FACE="Book Antiqua" ><A HREF="index.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="LeKnight at Bluewater"><U><B>back to</B></U></A></FONT><A HREF="index.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="LeKnight at Bluewater"><U><B> </B></U></A><A HREF="index.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="LeKnight at Bluewater"><U><I><B>Debaucherous Tales</B></I></U></A></div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> At the Opera</div> <bR> <div> from overture to<FONT SIZE="4" COLOR="#FF66FF" FACE="Book Antiqua" > . . . </FONT><FONT SIZE="1" COLOR="#FF66FF" FACE="Book Antiqua" ><I>by mdg._</I></FONT></div> <bR> <div> <I>In the upper booths, second balcony, excellent view of stage and orchestra.  No door to close, only heavy red velvet drapes to close behind.  The booths to either side, kept intimate by paneled mahogany walls. A low, but adequate hand-rail wall, perhaps a bit <IMG SRC="148aaf00.jpg" border=0 width="170" height="240" ALIGN="LEFT" HSPACE="8" VSPACE="8">less than waist high in front so not to obstruct any view while seated. Well cushioned, captains chairs, placed for ideal view of all, with small table, enough for one bottle of wine, several glasses and of course a tray with a few hors d'oeuvres. We were not too early, and settled in, orchestra still tuning, the murmur of arriving audience all around, from below, from either side, from the balcony above.  The usher showed us to our booth, opened the wine, replaced the cork lightly, then closed the drapes as he left, without a word.  The orchestra now silent, stage curtains closed, theater lights slowly being dimmed, complete silence now, only an occasional hissing whisper could be heard as we waited for the show to begin. I poured us each a glass of wine, click of glass to glass, toast to an evening to enjoy. A slight tik-tik-tik as the conductor tapped his baton to his music stand, orchestra raised their instruments, his hands up, and with one steady swoosh of his baton, the orchestra came to life in all it's power, a shudder, squirm in her chair as curtains open,  the overture begins, </I><I> <A NAME="puccini___la_bohéme__"><IMG BORDER="0" SRC="1x1.gif" HEIGHT="1" ALIGN="bottom" WIDTH="1" HSPACE="0" VSPACE="0" ></A></I><FONT SIZE="4" COLOR="#FF66FF" FACE="Book Antiqua" ><A HREF="id125.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Puccinis La Bohème "><U><I>Puccini - La Bohéme</I></U></A><A HREF="id125.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Puccinis La Bohème "><U><I>.</I></U></A></FONT><A HREF="id125.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Puccinis La Bohème "><U><I> </I></U></A><I> She snuggles closer, relaxing, leaning back in her chair, engrossed in the music.  Such a warm glow radiating from her, moved by music I suppose, warm glow of lights from the stage weakly reflected within our booth.  My hand resting gently on her thigh, hers on mine, occasional sip of wine, completely absorbed in the opera. The music becoming more intense as the musical tale evolves, her hand gently kneading on my leg, with each crescendo more intense, the damp heat from her palm, this was not just wine and performance.  The strength of the music, subtle, sublime vibrations throughout the theater.  My hand on her thigh receiving every emotion, heat, from her response to the tenor's pure and powerful voice, lead by brass, then chorus, following each movement.  She raised my hand from her thigh so slowly, perhaps my hand to hot, then maybe not. Her thin soft dress she slid up her thigh and placed my hand high on her thigh, then to her pussy,  her free hand gently massaging between my thighs.  Never looked away from the stage, then back to another sip of wine. Fondling, petting to the crescendos, diminuendos, cuddling closer, more subtly animated with the music. Her thighs quivering in direct response to me and the music, panties steaming hot and damp, wetter with arousal by the minute, not to mention what she was doing to me with the sensations. </I></div> <div> <I>"God I'm hot," she whispers in my ear, taking a firmer hold of my cock</I></div> <div> <I>"Well then let's get out of here, and go back to the hotel." I said</I></div> <div> <I>"No, I want it all here, NOW," she whispered with hot steamy breath in my ear again</I></div> <div> <I>"Lean forward," I told her, unzipped her strapless dress, pulled it down to her waist, her breasts bare to the world, nipples instantly erect, a flush, this glow over her exposed nakedness.</I></div> <div> <I>"This better be well worth it," she said, such a mischievous, don't stop there, grin,</I></div> <div> <I>"You just watch the performance on stage,"  I said, slowly, teasingly, licking circles around her nipples, gently nibbles, bites to her nipples, trying to push her breasts tighter to my lips. </I></div> <div> <I>"Lean back and listen to the performance," I mumbled again, "This is only my overture,"</I></div> <div> <I>slid out of my chair, low on my knees, my hands, slow, sliding under her thin dress, spreading her thighs slowly wider and wider in anticipation of my advance,</I></div> <div> <I>"If you do that, I'll never get your panties off," I said, kissing along her inner thigh</I></div> <div> <I>"Oh my God," she said, quivering with my tease and music, then slowly raised her hips, knees again together, that I should better do as I had just suggested, tucked her panties in my back pocket, </I></div> <div> <I>"Now my dear, you may spread your thighs as you desire," I said, "and let me continue with my performance as  I promised." helping spread her thighs wider with hands on her hot, damp, fleshy inner thighs, slowly, methodically, nibbling, kissing, licking a path up to her eager, glowing pussy. I don't believe she has ever been this hot, wet, aching for more, before.  This somewhat secluded balcony, yet not, the height we are above the stage, the music of the performance absorbed to our booth.  With each lick and nibble closer to her clit, the more her quivering, swaying motion. As with the performance below, you can not demand they sing any faster to know what will be next,  I would not allow her to hasten mine. With an occasional glance, I see her hypnotic stare to the stage below, between my lips I firmly hold her wet protruding clit, and roll my tongue along its aching tip. A sudden flinch throughout her body, her breaths staccato, but deep, as I played with conviction, for my audience between her trembling thighs. Her augmented whispers, hesitant breathing, the performance below, we were somewhere else, not here, all else cancelled out, but climbing the scales in harmony with the moving performance below,  around us,  within us. It was a concerto in all its intensity.  The more moving , the more powerful the vocalists, the orchestra, the more moving her thighs, her sporadic thrusts of hips to my probing fingers, tongue, thighs at times clenched so tightly to my neck as each preorgasm wrenched through her body and soul, a multiple concerto of emotions, passions, bodies, performing for each, and all. Such a dynamic orgasm erupted from within her depths, shock waves rocked me, her hot wet crushing thighs convulsing, thrusting, embellished by her quivering clit to my lips, creamy hot sweet nectars streaming with each post orgasmic explosion. Her thighs still quivering as her body went limp in the chair, to me, as if melting around my efforts, her fingers trembling, fumbling in my hair.  </I></div> <div> <I>"Ohhh Wow," she said, "Where was I ?, Where am I ?"  </I></div> <div> <I>"When you come back down, you need to think about my aches,"  I  whispered, still hanging between her drenched, hot delicious thighs. Her orgasms, musky rich steamy  scents all around, I was aching with erection, throbbing.  She pushed be gently back from between her thighs, a naughty subtle satisfied glowing grin,</I></div> <div> <I>"This performance is not quite  finished yet," she whispered, motioning me back to my seat, a sip of her wine, somewhat adjusting her dress, but with no concern for her exposed bare breasts. I sat back, relaxed, again with somewhat attention to the performance below. She leaned closer, still the aroma of her musky scents all around me, tastes lingering on my lips, her hand with a determined grasp to my diminishing, aching cock.  Struggling now to unzip my pants, her hands again trembling, eager with arousal, she was  getting hot again, and taking me with her. Without hesitance, nor fanfare, she squat on the floor before me, unzipping my pants, as if in unison with the performers below. My pants and shorts now almost to the floor, her fingers and tongue playing along the length of my again proud erection.  Sliding her hot mouth, drooling up and down, it seemed for her pleasure as much as mine, but determined I was not yet to come. Prelude juices she so softly licked from the soft swollen tip of my cock.  Her fingers as the violinists, she played along my thighs, my balls, bringing me closer and closer to loosing control, yet she knew when to tease for erection sake, yet not to let me come. The crescendos of tenors, sopranos in play on stage, she teased in harmony with their performance. The final movement, I knew must be near, what was her intention, her plan? Somehow though, I didn't seem to care.  Never have lips played upon my pulsing cock like this. Somehow, although blinded by desire to release, I sensed her motives, yet impatient, the sip of wine, a moment of rest was the interlude to her intended finale. She played, teased, fingered, fondled, licked and sucked in complete harmony with each movement of the performance below.  As with all the performers on stage and in the orchestra box, each performing for the hopefully appreciative audience, but also as all, for her own personal satisfaction and pleasures.  The finally nearing, I feel the energy of her own arousal rushing through my trembling body as she now fingers and gropes within her pussy. In one leaping act, as the explosive finale resounds with all it's power through the theater, she turns, rises, grabs firmly one hand on the brass rail to our booth, the other hard around my cock, and thrusts herself in unison with the chorus between tenors, sopranos, hard on my cock, rocking in motion with the music.  The final powerful crescendo of chorus and orchestra, timpani rolling harder and harder, I explode as her convulsive pussy erupts with fire around my cock, holding her waist without control.  The applause softly begins with a few, from below, from within the crowded theater, to a rapid crescendo, the standing ovation to the full roar of appreciation for the performance. The lights gradually come on throughout the theater, we begin to realize, we must make ourselves quickly presentable, the performance was the most gallant, no doubt. Not one moment too soon. The ushers coming, opening and tying the drapes back to their opened position. Leaving the booth, two couples from adjacent booth, </I></div> <div> <I>"Wonderful performance it was, wasn't it,?" one of them said </I></div> <div> <I>"Exceptional,"  I said as we led our limping, drained bodies down the stairs,</I></div> <div> <I>"How about a nice after performance snack and drink,?" I said</I></div> <div> <I>"That sounds wonderful," she, smiled</I></div> <bR> <bR> <div> <I>. . . . . fini</I></div> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> (Of course you know, for us this all was just our overture.)</div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <div> <I> <embed src="HTMLobj-493/Pucini-_opera1.wav" autostart="true" width="145" height="70">  </I></div> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> <bR> </td> </tr></table></body>