This erotica short is an entry to the weekly Masturbation Monday challenge, hosted by author Kayla Lords! The rules are simple: write something nasty that makes people want to masturbate. If you liked to read it, “like” this post! 🙂
Madame Adona Modesti Rufina Bruno accepts a humble spritz of throat tonic before the curtain rises. Her costume attendants adjust her mountain of curls, the fresh flowers sewn to her dress, and the pile of ribbon and lace that construct the prima donna before the Act III. Her cheeks are patted with rogue, her lips are repainted, and a black mole in the shape of a heart is reapplied while the audience enjoys a pastoral ballet scene during this interim.
The whalebone cage of her dress is wide enough to hide three squatting men. Right now, it hides only one.
Adona can already feel the heat from the stage lamps, burning brightly to warm the December audience and illuminate her performance. And she knows that Giovanni, tucked under layers of expensive fabric, is cooking like a roast. This is part of the fun for the prima donna, to feel a man sweat beneath her oven of a gown.
The red curtain with lifts. The audience sees Adona, but they do not see her hidden guest.
Her voice flutters through the introduction. She knows that her lover is untrue and asks the audience whether or not she should stay with him or flee to the countryside to rejoin her peasant parents. Can she leave behind her newfound wealth? Can she give up her comfortable life for a simpler one, in the face of infidelity?
While she paints the story with her voice, Adona opens her legs wide underneath the bell of her gown. She wears nothing beneath the whalebone, naked as Eve. Giovanni shifts to accommodate her movement, then positions himself directly between her open legs. He looks up at her cunt, pink and glistening, ready for his ministrations. Her smell is a rich spice, surrounding him with sensation. He shivers for the prima donna and listens for the signal to begin: Cosa faccio? Cosa faccio? She sings, and he moves.
Giovanni reaches up between her legs with an outstretched tongue, aiming for her flesh and licking with abandon. Her voice rises at the touch, rising forever, seeming never to stop. No one in the city knows what her secret is. No one knows how it is possible that a human voice can reach such heavenly heights.
As her song progresses, Giovanni’s tongue matches her note for note. When her voice travels upward, his tongue travels upward into her pussy. When she is soft, he is soft. He lets the juice from the prima donna drip down his face and into his curly beard, marrying with the sweat all over his body. He swelters and reddens, working hard to please Adona and aid her beautiful song.
He replaces his tongue with two fingers in her thick pussy and one small finger in her asshole, lubricated by her own honey. He can feel the vibration of her song through his fingers as he works her like an instrument, reaching up and down in a quick succession of notes. They are one now, one beautiful song machine that will bring tears to every eye in the audience. He swallows the slick honey that rolls down her folds and onto her thighs. Delicious prima donna, my angel, my love. Giovanni praises God.
The finale approaches. The audience members shift in their seat, leaning in toward the stage in expectation.
Adona feels her body and voice in sync, and knows that she is soon to reach her peak. She wiggles her hips on Giovanni’s face and tongue, wiggling him into the position. Finito! She sings, her voice shaking heaven and earth. Finito! Her voice tickles the dangling crystal of the chandelier, moving the audience as they have never been moved.
Giovanni can feel her finish, can feel every sensation. He presses his fingers deep into her ass and cunt, as far as they will go. She tightens on him, consuming him. Finito! An impossible final note is produced, as powerful as a note will ever be. The audience stands and cheers while Adona wipes away tears from her own eyes.
The curtain fails, the prima donna is finished.
Photo credit: Stuck in Customs via Visualhunt / CC BY-NC-SA
Mintie Price 