42 Filthy Fucking Stories (4 page)

XXX

Intermission Quickie

Selena rushed across the lobby, then raced through the underground corridor, hoping she could reach the maestro’s door and give him a fuck he wouldn’t forget, before the next curtain. Intermission started a minute ago, which meant she had one minute under twenty to do it.
 

Musicians flew by in the other direction, juggling basses and cellos as the costume crew flurried about, hanging clothes along the racks lining the narrow corridor. A herd of elephants stomped above her as the stage crew swapped the Steinway with the harp, music stands, and risers, on stage and in the orchestra pit.
 

Selena hurried through the underground labyrinth of corridors, dressing rooms, work rooms, bathrooms and utility closets, catching the acrid scent of a scorched costume. She hoped that it wasn’t a crucial piece of a character’s wardrobe.

Operas were grand productions, with many different types of stage crew, actors, singers, and a massive family of theatre personnel. Plus, of course, the musicians.
 

They were everywhere, and even if Selena got the maestro to agree to slipping his baton in her orchestra pit, any one of them could walk in at any time. She glanced at her watch. Eighteen minutes left.

Selena reached the maestro’s dressing room as someone barreled by with an enormous donkey’s head, nearly knocking her to the floor. She had worked for the theatre organization and had met the maestro, born in Barcelona, many times before. He was any sane woman’s dream: hot, young, brilliant, world renowned and booked globally, constantly spanning the planet to guest conduct symphony orchestras, operas, choral groups and even musicals.

She drew a deep breath and knocked on the door. The maestro said, “Who is it?”
 

Selena took another deep breath, then said, “It’s Selena, Maestro – we’ve met before.” Then after a pause, “when I helped you with that publicity.”

There was silence from the other side, as the volume around her exploded. She tapped her foot to the quickly ticking clock, as the heat between her legs burned like campfire.
 

Finally, she heard him say, “Come in.”

She glanced at her watch, saw there were 17 minutes, drew another extremely deep breath, then pulled open the door and shut it softly behind her.
 

Selena was decorated in a blouse with a loose scoop neckline, made from soft draping silk and nothing underneath. She wore a skirt that could be shucked up or off in an instant, high heels – which she rarely wore, and a stunning emerald necklace.
 
The necklace was from her dearest love, the man she missed most in the world, who had once wrapped it around her neck and whispered that it was hers to keep.

The maestro had carved himself a small space in the corner, with sheet music scattered across a small table. Several vases of red roses lined the narrow makeup shelf above the desk. The scent of the blooms was as intoxicating as the maestro, and like Selena the roses were in full bloom.

The maestro turned to Selena, drinking her in with his eyes. He looked her up and down, then smiled in appreciation. “And what can I do for you?”
 

His Spanish accent put a curl in her toes, and would have added to the soak in her panties if she had been wearing any. The maestro’s hair fell in ringlets, with a wave across his forehead, like an Ancient Roman. He exuded pure sex, just like Selena knew he would. She licked her lips and took a step toward him.

Selena had wanted him tonight from his first bow. He was tall, tan, and dressed all in black, easily blending into the theater’s darkness. He was all she thought of during the performance, and could barely wait for the curtain to fall. Passing his many posters on her way to the dressing room, she felt a surging sex inside her as she imagined those eyes following her, whispering that he was waiting.
 

Selena stood in front of the maestro, barely able to contain herself, brimmed with nervous excitement and an ache in her pussy. She took another step closer, then heard a few muffled voices passing outside the door, followed by an exchanged shout about a broken set piece.

Great, maybe I have a few more minutes.
 

Selena moved closer to the maestro as he sat on his stool and half turned towards her. She leaned over his shoulder, pretending to search for a brochure and dragging her gorgeous breasts against him.

Mmmmmmm...
 

Selena purred, imagining her fingers curled around the maestro’s cock, slick with spit from her mouth. His forehead was beaded with sweat as stared at Selina’s neckline and down into the scoop of her soft, creamy and very large breasts.
 

Selena could have had any man with the perfect instrument of her body, but she only wanted to make music with the maestro. As his hand inched towards her chest, he leveled his eyes to hers. She nodded and he tentatively placed a hand on her breast.

Selena took the maestro’s hand, and lowered the top of her blouse for him to have a clearer view of her pert nipples – erect from the second she entered the room. Selena had a thing for symphony conductors, but this maestro made music like no one else.

She laced her fingers through his thick hair, then pulled his lips towards hers. Their mouths met, and his tongue slipped into her waiting mouth. Her fingers inched toward his cock which was straining the fabric of his pants. Selena spun the stool, brought her eyes to his, then started stroking the length of his shaft against the fabric, tentative at first, then rough enough to draw the maestro into an aggressive push against her, complete with a nearly silent growl.
 

Selena imagined how his hard cock would feel and look sliding inside her – slowly at first, then increasing with his tempo and masterful sense of time and half notes, giving her more vibrato than she might be able to bear.
 

The maestro caressed her nipples and the sides of her breasts with his lips and tongue. Selena shuddered beside him. She would have been happy to stay that way for hours, but had only minutes which barely felt like seconds.
 

She pulled away and smiled. Then, leaning back against the narrow makeup counter, she slowly hiked her skirt up, stroked her inner thighs, and her hand went up to her belly button and her flat stomach. Then she inserted
 
two fingers into her sloshy hole so the maestro could smell her arousal.
   

He groaned, and stood between her legs running his hand up and around to her ass, caressing her soft skin. Selena stared at him in the mirror. The maestro leaned back, closed his eyes, then started speaking in Spanish:

Usted está tan caliente. He esperado para que toda la noche. Todos ustedes son lo pienso, incluso cuando estoy haciendo música. Estoy hambrienta para usted, y no puede esperar para ser dentro de ti.

Another gush flooded her cunt.
 

The maestro fell to his knees as she leaned back. He shoved her skirt up further, bent down and started slathering his kisses on her inner thighs, then around her clit, where he lingered for a long minute they didn’t have.
 

There was a loud clanging on the other side of the door, and Selena was certain it would fly open at any second. She turned her head and tried to ignore it, moaning and groaning and focusing on the fire inside her. The maestro swapped fingers for his
 
tongue, and used his digits to spread her lower lips – gently at first, then with aggression, until the maestro’s entire tongue was tasting her center.

Selena shuddered under the maestro’s tempo as the second climax galloped toward her body. She tried to muffle her screams, but several escaped. Selena wondered if they could hear her outside.
 

“Ten more minutes!” She heard from the other side, probably the stage manager.

“The door, maestro,” Selena managed to gasp, “someone is on the other side.”

 
“Don’t worry about it,” he mumbled under the lapping of his tongue. “No one will come in without knocking and waiting...I think.”
 

Her worry collapsed as he brought her to a blinding crescendo, his fingers splaying deep into her ass cheeks mid-climax to keep her from falling over. He lifted his glazed face from her dripping pussy, stood, then led Selena to a wall-mounted, overhead costume rack running along the far wall.
 

She slipped off her dress, and stood with her back to the wall as the maestro faced her. Selena unfastened his pants, dipping her hand inside his boxers and curling her fingers around his shaft. The maestro leaned into her, and ran his left hand along her left arm, then braided his fingers with hers at the top, smashing her against the wall as she clung to the costume rack with her other hand.
 

The maestro lifted her right leg in the air, and shoved himself inside her with a symphony of force. Selena slammed her body toward him, as hard and as fast as she could. The maestro met her gyrations thrust for thrust, their bodies both rattling and shaking together. Selena chewed on her lip trying not to scream, squealing on repeat at the rigidity and size of his throbbing cock pulsing in side her as he continued to pound her against the wall. Spray after spray of her juices spilled from her slit and soaked the maestro’s cock, before running down her inner thighs.
 

Selena kept rattling, meeting the maestro’s every thrust, pushing her body toward him and forcing his baton deeper and deeper inside her.
 

The maestro was seconds from climax when he abruptly stopped thrusting. Selena whimpered, then looked up at him with pleading eyes. He caressed her cheek, smiled like a wolf, then gestured for her to wrap her legs around his back and hang on.

The maestro took one step back as Selena clung to his tight body. Without looking, he kicked the low stool he’d been sitting on earlier, fished it into place with his foot and knee, then set Selena on her back, draping her over the side like an offering at an altar.
 

Selena stretched her toes, curling them into the thick pile of carpet beneath her, then did the same with her fingers. The maestro stared down at her, moving his eyes along the length of her body.

Someone rand down the corridor outside, yelling, “Five minutes everyone!”
 

“Please,” Selena begged, “finish me.”

“The maestro whispered, “I will. We’ve not much time. I will have only seconds to send you to Heaven.”

Selena whimpered, and the maestro repeated his words in Spanish:

No hemos mucho tiempo. Tendré sólo segundos para enviarle al Cielo.

Selena moaned, loud and long as the maestro slid his slick and still pipe hard cock into her slowly, arching over her nude body by supporting himself from the floor.

The maestro groaned, then laying lightly on top of and over her, he slid his hand under her ass, pulling her closer to him with every thrust. Selena felt the pressure building in his dick, then heard him growl like an animal. She squeezed her eyes shut as the first of six straight shots of sweet yogurt splattered against her inner slit and dripped from her center.

Selena held to the maestro as he shook to a standstill. When his body finally stopped humming, he helped Selena to her feet. He then walked to the mirror, tidied himself in the reflection preparing for his return to the orchestra pit.

Selena retrieved her dress from the floor and was about to put it back on when the maestro reached over and gently set his fingers on her to stop her. “No need, yet,” he said. “We have a few more minutes. Let me soak you in for as long as I can, so your image will fill my mind during the second act.”

There was a soft knock on the door. A muffled voice said, “Two minutes to places, Maestro. Two minutes.”

He said, “Thank you,” then turned to Selena and fingered her emerald necklace. The only thing she still had on. “Lovely,” he said.
 
“I imagine someone who loves you very much must have given that to you.”
 

“He did,” she said. “Another conductor, handsome and brilliant. The love of my life.”
 

“You must tell me about him sometime,” the maestro smiled. “Perhaps I can best him.”

Selena shook her head and smiled. “Perhaps, though no one ever has before.” She leaned on her toes and then into him, and kissed him on the bottom of his chin. He leaned toward her, then used her lips and tongue to nibble gently down her neck and around to her ear where he whispered some more in Spanish, sending Selena’s libido back into a scream.

She pulled away slightly, knowing there wasn’t time for seconds.
 

The maestro pulled her back, then kissed her several more times across her breasts, circling her nipples with his tongue.
 

He stood straight, smiled, then softly asked, “Do I look all put together?”
 

Selena leaned back, still naked, and said, “Yes, Maestro. Even more so than when you started the performance.”

He took her small hands in his, and kissed their edges as he stared in her eyes. Their time was ending and she could feel his hollow ache.