Monica Ambrosino Storyteller - "Il concerto"

The fuzzy orange red of the Rome sky reflected on the Tiber, heralding a sultry evening. Despite this Monica had decided to treat herself to an evening of pure artistic pleasure ... An Argentine tango concert at the Auditorium. It was Fabio, a musician friend of hers, who convinced her, and she was curious to discover how from those hands, which she knew well, such persuasive sounds could be born. Monica hadn't immediately said yes to that invitation, she had never been definitive in her choices and she didn't even know if it was for the sake of leaving her interlocutors pending or to always keep an escape route at the last minute. This is why she had taken a ticket from the stalls and not from the parterre where Fabio would surely have identified her more easily. She walked up the slope that led to the cavea with her new blue sandals from Nero Giardini, inducing a gentle movement in the long dress that suggested the lightness of the fabric from which the tapered legs could be seen. The dress climbed lightly over the busty breasts, weaving the straps right behind the neck and leaving the shoulders and back completely uncovered. Fabio's favorite dress. <p> <span> Sitting on the steps of the Cavea he listened to the concert entranced by the quartet who played with captivating passion. Fabio concentrated on his instrument and lost in the music seemed to fill the whole stage and this insinuated in Monica a burning desire, which turned into heat, which seemed to rise from the lower abdomen along the pelvis and breasts up to the face. He closed his eyes to enjoy that moment of excitement, letting himself be lulled by the notes of the instrument he knew in Fabio's expert hands. </span> </p>

<p> <span> Between one song and another, during the short breaks, Monica saw Fabio's gaze looking for her in the crowd. It was pleasant to look at him with that air almost like a lost child, in the body of a man now forty with broad shoulders who betrayed a past as a swimmer. </span> </p>
<p> <span> At the end of the concert she walked calmly towards the artists' exit, observing him from a distance while receiving the well-deserved appreciation of the audience. When he looked up and saw her, Monica gave him that ironic and accomplice smile that he adored for that thrill of desire that every time released in him. He noticed the dress and realized that Monica was there for him. Without speaking, he hugged her, sliding his hands on her bare back, kissing her on the shoulders and savoring her perfume. Monica's reaction was immediate, feeling those hands that shortly before produced poetry in music, her breasts swelled stiffening her nipples that were now clearly visible under her dress. The long and deep kiss was only a confirmation that Monica's body no longer responded to her but to every single gesture of Fabio. He knew her, so he took her by the hand and carried her with him into the Foyer through the long corridors and then up the stairs until he entered one of the Studios to be able to hold her again and touch her more deeply. With her back against the cherry-paneled wall, Monica felt the weight of Fabio's body against her, his hands sliding on her skin warmed by the torrid night and desire. Fabio tasted her neck, coming down to savor her swollen and full breasts, her turgid nipples surrounded by a large pink areola. The hand went down along the dress to lift a flap, to discover between her thighs the gift he had sent her the day before: a thong ... A thong that had a single string of pearls in the front. He had bought it on a website he recently discovered by accident (www.angelydiablo.com). A seemingly simple underwear, but if used with skill it could create in Monica the explosive effect that Fabio loved.

The soft and manicured female hands had come down to test the hard swelling of the musician's pants who now approached to whisper the words that he knew even more ignite his desire: "you are my slut!"

<p> "Yeah, tell me .... You know I love being your bitch" </p>
<p> <span> Those words were followed by a few decisive and clear movements of Fabio's pelvis accompanied by a scream from Monica. She felt full of him and as she sank him inside, clinging to her neck, she felt the pearls massaging her clitoris, making her melt with desire. Fabio, feeling that liquid that enveloped him and descended copiously until his swollen testicles were wet, he could not restrain himself and felt it increasingly hard to rub between the increasingly swollen walls of his accomplice. He had a goal though and he wasn't going to be satisfied until he reached it. He was looking for that expression in Monica's face that would have heralded the moment of her surrender, for this reason he did not give her respite although she begged "please Fabiooo!" But he didn't intend to stop until she opened her eyes wide, opened her mouth to mimic a muffled scream in her throat, he pulled away from her immediately and a hot jet engulfed his hard member. In a moment he was back inside her to enjoy him too, let her feel the splash that overwhelmed them both. </span> </p>
<p> <span> They looked at each other overwhelmed with pleasure, only then did Monica realize that she had been suspended in his arms the whole time. She took Fabio's face in her hands and kissed him passionately while he brought her back down to earth. </span> </p>