The violist giving a concert was a rare treat for many of the university music graduates of this year, most notably I. Although not a viola player myself, as an avid violinist and classical music nerd, this opportunity was not going to be missed. After the concert went through Telemann’s Viola Concerto, Mozart’s “Sinfonia Concertante for Violin & Viola”, ending on Bruch’s “Romance for Viola & Orchestra”, not only did the counter-tenor like timbre of the larger fiddle leave me spell bound on the front row but so did the rather well built figure of the violist.
Did I say I had a crush on him from the moment he laid his bow to his instrument? My classmates looked at me giggling as they noticed me blush when the violist looked my way. After the violist delivered his final encore performance, I handed him a bouquet of red roses with a card containing my email addresses and phone numbers? Yes, maybe I’m that desperate but can’t blame a girl for trying!
When the violist took the bouquet, I noticed his deep green eyes and his slightly tousled brown hair. Though he wasn’t quite middle aged yet, he was significantly older than I. As my eyes glanced downwards from his eyes, I saw his mouth and had there not been too many glaring eyes, I would have reached over and let my lips feast on his lips but I restrained myself just in time by allowing my eyes to glance lower. I noticed his shirt, all buttoned up except for the very top button, revealing glimpses of what I suspect is a hairy chest dank in sweat from the musical workout he just did. Finally my eyes, reached the zipper of his trousers and my mind fantasized about the length and circumference of his manhood.
“Valentina,” said Denise, “I think you need to sit down now.”
Glancing around, I noticed all eyes were on me. Muttering the word ‘sorry’, I fell back onto my seat. The violist looked at me with a smirk. It was hard to wonder what’s on his mind.
When the audience dismissed themselves from the concert hall, the next ‘performance’ came autograph signing from the show’s star performer. What felt like an eternity, the violist finished signing leaving me and Denise as the final two. After Denise got the violist’s autograph, she looked at me and the violist annoyed before excusing herself when the violist seemed to be checking me out and ignoring everyone else.
I was about to follow Denise down the stairs till the violist gently took me by the hand and turned me around, inviting me to join him in the VIP room. I nodded nervously and followed him in. Once inside, he shut and locked the door. I was confused but once more hypnotized when he looked me right in the eye.
“So,” he said, “you’re truly my number one fan then?”
I nodded, a bit embarrassed when he read my card out loud. I tried to say something but words failed me.
“You’re a violinist, fresh graduate from uni?” he enquired, his voice wooden, almost like a poker player determined not to lay his cards on the table just yet.
“Yes, but I know you’re a violist, not a violinist.”
“Says who?” he snapped while retuning his viola. “I learned the violin first before I switched over to the viola. However, I still kept my violin as it reminds me of a little girl that needs to be taken care of properly.”
Soon, he had the palm of his hand on my face. He smiled when he knew I felt hot as he slowly pulled me close. I found myself kissing his hand, letting my lips feel the calluses of his fingers that spent much of his life pressed on the G-strings of an instrument that resembled the figure of a woman in her prime.
Did I say I had a crush on him from the moment he laid his bow to his instrument? My classmates looked at me giggling as they noticed me blush when the violist looked my way. After the violist delivered his final encore performance, I handed him a bouquet of red roses with a card containing my email addresses and phone numbers? Yes, maybe I’m that desperate but can’t blame a girl for trying!
When the violist took the bouquet, I noticed his deep green eyes and his slightly tousled brown hair. Though he wasn’t quite middle aged yet, he was significantly older than I. As my eyes glanced downwards from his eyes, I saw his mouth and had there not been too many glaring eyes, I would have reached over and let my lips feast on his lips but I restrained myself just in time by allowing my eyes to glance lower. I noticed his shirt, all buttoned up except for the very top button, revealing glimpses of what I suspect is a hairy chest dank in sweat from the musical workout he just did. Finally my eyes, reached the zipper of his trousers and my mind fantasized about the length and circumference of his manhood.
“Valentina,” said Denise, “I think you need to sit down now.”
Glancing around, I noticed all eyes were on me. Muttering the word ‘sorry’, I fell back onto my seat. The violist looked at me with a smirk. It was hard to wonder what’s on his mind.
When the audience dismissed themselves from the concert hall, the next ‘performance’ came autograph signing from the show’s star performer. What felt like an eternity, the violist finished signing leaving me and Denise as the final two. After Denise got the violist’s autograph, she looked at me and the violist annoyed before excusing herself when the violist seemed to be checking me out and ignoring everyone else.
I was about to follow Denise down the stairs till the violist gently took me by the hand and turned me around, inviting me to join him in the VIP room. I nodded nervously and followed him in. Once inside, he shut and locked the door. I was confused but once more hypnotized when he looked me right in the eye.
“So,” he said, “you’re truly my number one fan then?”
I nodded, a bit embarrassed when he read my card out loud. I tried to say something but words failed me.
“You’re a violinist, fresh graduate from uni?” he enquired, his voice wooden, almost like a poker player determined not to lay his cards on the table just yet.
“Yes, but I know you’re a violist, not a violinist.”
“Says who?” he snapped while retuning his viola. “I learned the violin first before I switched over to the viola. However, I still kept my violin as it reminds me of a little girl that needs to be taken care of properly.”
Soon, he had the palm of his hand on my face. He smiled when he knew I felt hot as he slowly pulled me close. I found myself kissing his hand, letting my lips feel the calluses of his fingers that spent much of his life pressed on the G-strings of an instrument that resembled the figure of a woman in her prime.
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Remembering the many fantasies I worked in my mind should my first musical crush ever stood in front of me, I lost control, hugged him and pressed my lips against his.
The pounce almost caught the violist off guard when he nearly dropped his instrument. He quickly put his instrument down, lifted me up and put me down on the table still facing him. The violist didn’t waste any time as his hand disappeared into my skirt as I felt him pull my panties down, almost ripping them off on the first attempt. A gasp escaped me, not in horror but the fact I was not sure how he might react if he discovered I was already wet from the way he held me. My fears were proven to be irrelevant as he slammed his lips against mine and slipped his tongue in, only to pin my tongue in a different kind of missionary position. I could taste remnants of the red wine he had, mixed with his saliva which tasted strangely sweet. I let out a moan when one finger disappeared up my vagina before being pulled out only to pluck the private strings around my very wet cave before teasing my clitoris, which was throbbing out of control in ecstasy.
Clumsily, I tried to unbutton the violist’s shirt as quickly as possible only to have a couple of buttons from his shirt pop out, though on the plus side, I got especially turned on by the sight of his hairy chest. Instinctively, I pushed him off. He looked at me bewildered but soon got a pleasant surprise when I slid off the table and started sucking on his chest, feeling slight ticklish when his sweaty chest hairs tickled my nose. I then stood up on tip toe (as he was much taller than I was), and pulled the violist’s dress shirt down his muscular shoulders down to his wrists roughly while I bit hard into his shoulders tasting sweaty muscle against my tongue that has hungered for him for so long. He then retaliated by pulling my hair causing my head to jerk back as his lips and teeth got to work on my neck. He opened my blouse and cupped my breasts in his hands as he muttered the letter ‘C’, though I wasn’t sure if he guessed I was a size 36C or whether he thought about the ‘c’ string on his viola which may need further tuning. When I quickly unzipped the violist’s pants, the violist’s other but private instrument protruded through his boxer shorts and out through the zipper shooting semen onto my white skirt.
“Shit!” I stammered, “You stained my dress!”
“I’m sorry,” the violist said as he rushed to get a tissue.
I stopped him and sensing the little ploy, he grabbed me even more aggressively as he slammed me against the wall, shoving his manhood deep into me causing me to scream in both pleasure and pain. I felt tightness in my belly as he entered further into me as the warmth from his hot, sweat drenched body filled me. Hearing my own voice made me understand how he can make his instrument ‘sing’ in high coloratura soprano territory. He and I kept going at it for what felt like hours as he made me moan and squeal painfully high as he fiddled me about bringing with it more than just auditory sensations of pleasure.
When the private VIP show was over, I pulled my panties up and readjusted my dress as I tried not to notice the semen stain viewing that as the best autograph signing. I vowed to cum see him in any concerts or recitals he gives with him likewise promising to sneak me in backstage for another encore VIP performance.
The pounce almost caught the violist off guard when he nearly dropped his instrument. He quickly put his instrument down, lifted me up and put me down on the table still facing him. The violist didn’t waste any time as his hand disappeared into my skirt as I felt him pull my panties down, almost ripping them off on the first attempt. A gasp escaped me, not in horror but the fact I was not sure how he might react if he discovered I was already wet from the way he held me. My fears were proven to be irrelevant as he slammed his lips against mine and slipped his tongue in, only to pin my tongue in a different kind of missionary position. I could taste remnants of the red wine he had, mixed with his saliva which tasted strangely sweet. I let out a moan when one finger disappeared up my vagina before being pulled out only to pluck the private strings around my very wet cave before teasing my clitoris, which was throbbing out of control in ecstasy.
Clumsily, I tried to unbutton the violist’s shirt as quickly as possible only to have a couple of buttons from his shirt pop out, though on the plus side, I got especially turned on by the sight of his hairy chest. Instinctively, I pushed him off. He looked at me bewildered but soon got a pleasant surprise when I slid off the table and started sucking on his chest, feeling slight ticklish when his sweaty chest hairs tickled my nose. I then stood up on tip toe (as he was much taller than I was), and pulled the violist’s dress shirt down his muscular shoulders down to his wrists roughly while I bit hard into his shoulders tasting sweaty muscle against my tongue that has hungered for him for so long. He then retaliated by pulling my hair causing my head to jerk back as his lips and teeth got to work on my neck. He opened my blouse and cupped my breasts in his hands as he muttered the letter ‘C’, though I wasn’t sure if he guessed I was a size 36C or whether he thought about the ‘c’ string on his viola which may need further tuning. When I quickly unzipped the violist’s pants, the violist’s other but private instrument protruded through his boxer shorts and out through the zipper shooting semen onto my white skirt.
“Shit!” I stammered, “You stained my dress!”
“I’m sorry,” the violist said as he rushed to get a tissue.
I stopped him and sensing the little ploy, he grabbed me even more aggressively as he slammed me against the wall, shoving his manhood deep into me causing me to scream in both pleasure and pain. I felt tightness in my belly as he entered further into me as the warmth from his hot, sweat drenched body filled me. Hearing my own voice made me understand how he can make his instrument ‘sing’ in high coloratura soprano territory. He and I kept going at it for what felt like hours as he made me moan and squeal painfully high as he fiddled me about bringing with it more than just auditory sensations of pleasure.
When the private VIP show was over, I pulled my panties up and readjusted my dress as I tried not to notice the semen stain viewing that as the best autograph signing. I vowed to cum see him in any concerts or recitals he gives with him likewise promising to sneak me in backstage for another encore VIP performance.
