La Boheme

[Morgana]

Musetta lay back on the divan, watching her lover paint through eyes that were almost half closed. Kept in a constant state of tortured arousal, she was keenly aware of her body's rampant desire to be filled. She yearned to feel more than his fingers slipping inside of her and the anticipation created a craving that unsurpassed any she had yet known. She found her gaze strayed unabashedly to Marcello's lower half, wondering what kind of effect this was having on him, but her greedy view was too often obstructed by the canvas in front of him.

Musetta sighed. She was unaware that every so often her hips undulated up and down but the movement was not missed by Marcello who smiled behind his work.

Musetta's voice came out in a sultry, impatient chant, "Mmmm....my Marcello, are you almost finshed with your masterpiece? Could I see what you've done? One teensy weensy peek?"

Her lips curved outwards into a little pout. She was shameless.

"And besides....when do I get to sketch you?" she inquired with a teasing smile. "You have no appreciation of what hard work it is lying here," she told him with exaggerated drama.

 

[ariosto]

"Ahhh but I do! Modeling is a noble art itself! Why what would an artist be without his model!?...Nothing!...nothing at all!"
Marcello too had a liking for histrionics.

"A Good model must arouse and yet be demure...must suffer agonies of discomfort without batting an eyelash..."
He'd put down his brushes and taken a step towards her.

"No matter what the distraction..." He slipped off his suspenders,
"No matter how she is stirred by what she sees"...another step closer and his white shirt fell to the floor..."She must keep still as
a sleeping cat."...another step and his breeches were discarded.

"A good model must endure the gravest temptations..."
His drawers now fell and Musetta could see the beautiful curve of his cock as he released it from bondage. "...without blinking an eye."
Another step forward and it was waving like a hooded cobra a scant few inches away from her face.

"How good a model are you my dear sweet Musetta?"
Marcello was grinning like a cheshire cat.

 

[Morgana]

Musetta watched her lover undress, her eyes following his every movement. Her heart beat rapidly as his drawers sild to the floor, freeing his cock, which was only inches from her face, and already beginning to swell tantalizingly before her eyes.

The bastard was teasing her! And she loved it. The only problem was that Musetta wasn't a patient woman. But she didn't like to give in either. She chuckled inwardly to herself. Musn't make this TOO easy for him.

"You forget, monsieur," Musetta cooed, leaning her head forward as she spoke. "I am used to making immense sacrifices for my art. I am accostomed to discipline and hard work."

She brought her lips against the tip of his cock as she spoke. With every word, Marcello felt the vibration of her voice and the fevered heat of her breath against his cock, her soft lips brushing against him, torturous and moist.

She leaned back upon her pillow, looking up at him through long lashes. "So even when faced with the most delicious of temptations," Musetta licked her lips.

"You are right--I must be resolute."

 

[ariosto]

Marcello thought for a brief moment of continuing the game of teasing but he too was an impatient man.
"Fox!...Vixen!...you succubus you!...how am I to return to the easel now!...in my condition I ask you!?"
His staff jutted out from his loins, a long curving fruit, it's tip beaded with desire.

"I ask you......."
he said more softly, then was kneeling beside her. His hands caressing her silk clad legs and his lips brushing the taught skin of her belly....his tongue awirled into the hollow of her navel and he felt her fingers twining into his hair...
"Perhaps you could paint with it...rather like a palette knife."
She giggled but could not disguise the air of anticipation in her voice.

He kissed his way up her body, savoring the cherry tips of her breasts, drawing the nipples within his lips, rolling them with his tongue, feeling them stiffen in the warmth of his mouth.
Marcello's hand was pressing into the soft swell between her legs, the heel of his palm rubbing Musetta's small pearl of pleasure as his fingers gently kneeded the down covered flesh above it...
She parted her legs for him and drew his face to hers.
Their kiss was long and hot and deep. His tongue slipped between her full lips and at the same time his fingers slipped between the moist folds of her sex.
They had been together just yesterday but somehow it seemed they'd been apart forever.

 

[Morgana]

Marcello slipped his fingers deep inside Musetta’s dripping passage only to withdraw them slowly and then plunge them still more deeply inside. His thumb glided in slow circles around her reddening bud, his nail pressing delicately against her and causing her to gasp into his mouth while he kissed her.

He loved the way Musetta’s luscious body responded to his touches and every ragged moan and rapturous sigh that emitted from her parted lips only made him crave her pleasure with a fiercer longing.

The settee rocked and creaked beneath Musetta while her hips rose and fell to accept and encourage the relentless onslaught of Marcello’s expert fingers. Musetta could feel Marcello’s rigid cock pulsating and hot against her inner thigh. And as she raised her buttocks up and down, the silky material of her stockings rubbed against his engorged phallus.

Musetta slid her hand down between their bodies and caught his wrist, gently drawing his fingers from her sex. She brought them to her mouth, sucking softly and tasting her own fluids. As Marcello bent down to nibble on her lips and slip his tongue once more between them, he could taste her.

“Make love to me, Marcello,” she pleaded, wriggling her hips underneath him until she felt the tip of his cock pressing against the heated moisture of her sex. “I need to feel you inside me” She lifted one long leg over Marcello’s right shoulder and drew his body more closely against her own. Her own body ached for him. She wanted to drive him crazy with pleasure and desire, to feel him shuddering and quivering within her until he found his release. Her eyes were glazed and wild and filled with longing as she gazed at her lover.

 

[ariosto]

The velvet tip of his cock trailed down across her sex...the secretion on it's tip blending with her own warm nectre.
His lips danced and played against hers, he licked them and bit them...his hands were roaming the soft fields of her breasts, caressing her nipples in his palms...squeezing, his fingers squeezing, gently, lovingly the firm sweet mounds.

He felt the warm slick touch of her labia against the sensitive skin of his cock...he rubbed against them, slowly pressing the soft hood between them. He moved up and down the swollen length of her honey damp sex, rubbing his glans against her pearl...his lips never leaving hers.

Musetta opened herself for Marcello, her thighs parting in feverish welcome, her breath rapid in anticipation.
Again he placed himself at her gate, pressing the yielding head of his cock into the satin of her sheath....his thick member filling, stretching her vagina...slowly...relentlesly.
She gasped, her fingernails raking his shoulders but he covered her mouth with his and his tongue filled her just as he pressed himself the final measure into her hungry sex.

 

[Morgana]

Musetta shivered with abandon as she felt Marcello's curving cock sliding between the moist soft folds of her entrance. She almost wept at the pure joy of finally feeling him fill and stretch and possess her. She moaned repeatedly into his mouth and plunged her tongue between his lips as he sank blissfully inside her.

Her nails bit into the flesh of Marcello's back as she slid her hands down to cup and mold his buttocks to her. At the same time, she raised her hips to welcome him, and as she felt the last inch of his cock penetrate her throbbing center, she squeezed him, released, and squeezed again. Marcello emitted a low, desperate groan and slid his mouth down to suckle one pert, rosy nipple. He leaned back and withdrew slightly from her and then pushed deeper inside her in one thrust while he continuted to devour her breasts, drawing one nipple between his lips, swirling his tongue around the ripe flesh, and then sucking greedily.

Musetta's hips rose and fell to greet Marcello's rhythmic and relentless thrusting. Pure, unadulterated pleasure washed in heady waves over her body. Marcello could feel her quivering as she pressed against him and he knew that her release was close.
He pushed into her harder....faster.....he wanted to push her over the edge, to hear her voice in his ear crying out his name again and again.

She was breathing so heavy and he could feel her heart pounding against his own chest. Her voice came out in hoarse, ragged sighs and moans.

"Mar...celllll.....oooo." She wrapped her legs around him and drew him tight against her and as he pushed inside her once more, her soft screams melded with his own delighted groans. He felt her release then. She convulsed and bucked underneath him, her vagina contracting around his cock and driving him wild with the frenzied spasms that her orgasm created. Another jolt of pleasure shot through Musetta's loins and she flooded his cock with moisture, the secretions trickling down her inner thighs.
Her release was so intense she continued to tremble and writhe in his arms for what seemed like many minutes. Through it all, Marcello's hips never stopped moving. As another of her spasms squeezed his smoldering cock, Marcello was driven to the peak of his own passion.

 

[ariosto]

Her own feverish response was enough to trigger his own and with a final urgency born of desire he let himself go over the cliff and joined Musetta in a shuddering mutual oragsm that released his pent up seed into her warm body in what seemed and endless pulsing stream.
His muscular arms braced on both sides of her body, she watched through glittering eyes as his face was transfixed with ecsatic abandon and the hot thick semen seared into her womb!
With a cry, he released his final load and collapsed onto her soft breasts his hands and mouth caressing and kissing the rose flushed skin.
"Musetta...carissima..."
His gentle breath murmured, over and over until, the painting forgotten, they both drifted off to sleep, wrapped tight in each others arms...

Morning came all to early and he awoke to the smell of warm bread fresh from the baker.
He opened groggy eyes in time to see Musetta, set the loaf on the table with the butter and preserves allready there.

"You are spoiling me outrageously!"
He stretched and yawned,
"And I love it."


ooc...Sorry the post is short luv, I'm on my last round before I leave...keep Musetta warm for me....

 

[ariosto]

(((((bump))))))
Time for your aria Musetta!

 

[Morgana]

While Musetta’s love life soared, her career plummeted. And it was beginning to have an effect on her. The income was steady but meager at Café Momus, and, save for a couple of brief engagements at a nearby salon, the offers for opera did not pour in. Musetta had begun to sell pieces of jewelery just to afford the expense of voice lessons with Madame Marceau. She couldn’t afford music anymore and would sit for hours copying borrowed scores by dim candlelight onto the cheapest staff paper she could come by until her eyes burned from the strain.

The new season at the Paris Opera would be opening in a few short months and Musetta knew now that she would not be a part of it.. She replayed her audition over again in her mind as she tread up the stairs to her flat. Christophe Bordeaux had been there, of course, leering at her the whole time. He had caught her wrist as she was leaving the opera house, dragging her into his office.

“It’s been a long time, hasn’t it, cherie?” he asked her. “I wonder if you’ve missed me….or perhaps you have been too distracted by that painter to remember old friends?”

“I have no friends here, Monsieur le Directeur.”

Bordeaux laughed. “Charming as ever, ma petite. Your manners must keep the Momus clientele enthralled, without doubt.”

“What do you want, Monsieur? I’m already running late for a voice lesson so if you will excuse me…”

“I wanted to offer you a contract for next season.”

Musetta’s heart nearly stopped.

Bordeaux pulled a piece of paper from his desk drawer. “You’ll sing Zerlina in ‘Don Giovanni’ for your debut and toward the end of the season…..Blonde in “Abduction from the Seraglio. Not a bad first season for an ingénue. Of course there are some other stipulations that aren’t written in the contract itself.”

Musetta did not have to ask. But Bordeaux took a certain obscene pleasure in telling her anyway.

“Leave the painter and come back to my bed.”

“No.”

“Are you certain, Musetta? Once upon a time you were an astute business woman. Or have you let sentiment cloud your judgment?” Bordeaux stepped toward her. “I will not make this offer again…..but you need not decide now. Take some time to think it over.”

“No.”

“I will hold onto this contract for a week, Musetta, and if I do not hear from you, I am certain that I can find another young lady who would be suitable for the roles.”

“You’ll wait in vain, monsieur.”

“We’ll see….Musetta,” Bordeaux whispered.

Musetta did not stop by to see Marcello that afternoon, as was her usual custom. She entered her flat, threw her music across the room, imagining that she was throwing at Bordeaux’s head. She undressed and slipped into bed. It was only then that the tears started to come.

“He offers me the only thing I want for the only thing I can never give up.” Musetta buried her face in the softness of her pillow and fell into a fitful sleep.

 

[ariosto]

"I don't know where she is."
Marcello tried to keep the worry out of his voice.
"She usually stops here about this time."

In actuality Musetta should have been there two hours ago and only the arrival of a distraught and breathless Mimi had kept him from going out to find her.

"You've been quareling with Rodolpho again."
He put his arms around her.
The young woman's frail beauty had always tugged at his heart and many times he'd lost patience with his poet friend at the way he treated her.

"Yes..yes..."she sobbed against his chest.
"He is a beast Marcello...a beast."

He tilted her head up.
"But a gentle beast n'est pas?"
His brow knit suddenly.
"Did he strike you!?"

She felt his muscles tighten with anger and she reached up and touched his cheek.
"No, no...nothing like that, I...I...."

Mimi turned away and walked to the window.
"What is it then?"

"There is another woman."
Her words were so soft, he barely made them out.

"What...?"

"A woman Marcello. Rodolpho has taken another lover."
The girl broke down and began to weep.

 

[Morgana]

"Surely the dress must be worth more than that, Madame. Look at the stitching."

"I am sorry, Mademoiselle, but this dress is two seasons old. That is the most that I can offer you."

Musetta sighed and accepted the offered note. It had been one of her favorite dresses, a deep sapphire blue velvet gown with a low back and a flowing train.

Musetta had slept through the night yesterday. She woke up with a happier outlook on life until she received a curt note from her landlord stating that her rent was nearly one week past due.

The money from the sale of the dress was not as much as Musetta had hoped but it was enough to pay her rent with a little left over. But what would she do next month and the month after that? Musetta shivered as she stepped through the snow covered streets of Paris. Her thin coat offered little protection from the brisk February wind.

Musetta purchased a baguette, some cheese, and an inexpensive bottle of wine. She had a few hours before she was due at the Cafe Momus for a rehearsal and she wanted to spend that precious time with Marcello. She took a longer route to his flat so that she did not have to pass by the Paris Opera House. She did not want to run the risk of bumping unexpectedly into Bordeaux.

But there was a deeper fear that haunted Musetta, that the temptation to accept the director's offer would be too great. She would have said yes without question a year ago but that was before she had met Marcello.

"I've made my decision," Musetta assured herself silently. But why then did she feel so uneasy?

Musetta felt herself relax as she approached the door of Marcello's apartment. She wanted to curl up in a chair and just sit quietly watching him work. She remembered the night he had painted her, an automatic flush of passion staining her pale cheeks.

"Marcello!" Musetta called out to him in her lovely voice as she opened the door to his flat. Her golden red hair was covered with tiny snowflakes and she clutched the basket filled with the simple lunch she had purchased for them.

In the dim light, Musetta saw the figure of Marcello standing near his easel and made out the silhouette of a woman standing behind him by the window.

 

[ariosto]

He turned at the sound of the latch and registered surprise at Musetta's unexpected arrival.
"Dear one! Come in, come in...look who's here."
Marcello stepped away from Mimi so the two could see each other. But Musetta caught the look that passed between them and saw that his hand was slow to leave her arm.

"What are you carrying? Here let me help you."

"It's nothing Marcello, a bit of bread and wine. Now Mimi can join us as well."
He took her thin wrap and noticed the frosting of snow crystals.
"You need a better coat than this. The weather is cold and getting worse. You'll freeze."

"Money's tight Marcello. You know that. Perhaps by Christmas....
Mimi you've been crying!"
She rushed to her friend and threw an arm around her.

"It's that rat Rodolpho. He has no appreciation for the girl. Insane is what he is."
Marcello opened the wine and poured three drinks as the two women talked.

He looked at them in the wan light of late afternoon.
Musetta's striking fiery beauty against the porcelain delicacy of Mimi.
"Here you go. Drink up now and things will look a lot better."

They sipped their wine in relative quiet for awhile and Mimi's cheeks had again taken on some color.

"Bordeaux offered me a job."
Musetta looked sharply at her lover, weighing his reaction.

"I hope he offered you a lot of money. Pay you for what your worth at last."

It was not the reply she expected or wanted.

 

[Morgana]

Musetta felt the warmth of the wine taking the chill away from her skin. As the gray colors of the winter afternoon light began to fade into even darker hues, she stood up and pulled on her coat.

“Leaving already, Musetta?” Marcello asked her, reaching for her.

She leaned forward and brushed her lips against his mouth. “I must. I have a rehearsal at Momus before I sing tonight.”

“I should go, too,” Mimi said in her soft voice. “I’ll walk you downstairs, Musetta.”

Musetta watched closely as Marcello embraced Mimi. The awkwardly chaste way he hugged her without touching her body made Musetta suspicious. Mimi’s delicacy drew men to her like bees to a honey pot. Musetta herself loved Mimi. Who could not? Mimi was the glue that somehow held them all together and Musetta felt her throat tighten when she saw the faint dark circles under her friend’s eyes.

“I love you, Marcello,” Musetta whispered quietly in his ear as she kissed him again.

As the two women walked down the stairs together, Musetta spoke.

“Mimi….I need to talk to you. Could I come in for a few minutes?”

Of course, Musetta!” Mimi smiled.

Mimi had done wonders with her drab flat. The small table in the corner was covered in a tablecloth elaborately embroidered with tiny rosettes. Afghans covered the fading furniture and brightened the room with their multi colored patterns. Mimi had that rare ability to bring beauty to a room just by being in it. Her place exuded warmth and a homey quality that filled Musetta with security.

“Mimi,” Musetta began tentatively, “you must do something for me.”

“Of course, Musetta….I’m your friend. You know that.”

“You’re not going to like what I’m going to ask you to do. But I can’t do it myself….I can’t.” Musetta began pacing agitatedly.

“Musetta….what on earth…?”

“I’m leaving Marcello, Mimi. And you must tell him for me.” Musetta was trembling.

“Musetta! Why?! Why would you do such a thing?”

Musetta turned her face away and shrugged. ‘I’m just bored, Mimi. I don’t love him. It was a flirtation….an affair. And it’s gone on too long already.”

With surprising strength, Mimi pulled Musetta to face her. In the dim candlight, she could make out the tears that were streaming down Musetta’s flushed cheeks.

“You’re lying, Musetta.”

Musetta buried her face in her hands. She was sobbing quietly now and her voice came out in little gasps as she strained to speak.

“That job…..Bordeaux offered me. It’s a contract for next season. I have to take it Mimi. I have no money. I’ve been selling anything of value the past few months just to get by. He wants me back….he and I….we used to be…”

“Musetta, do you love him?”

Musetta shook her head vehemently. “No, Mimi. It’s a business arrangement. Nothing more. I despise him.”

“You’re not thinking clearly, Musetta. There must be some other way. I have a little money….you can come here. I’ll help you.”

Musetta shook her head again. “It’s no use Mimi. Even if I had enough to live and to eat, there would never be enough for me to work on my career. I don’t want to be dependent on anyone, Mimi….even you.”

“And yet you would be dependent on this man you hate so much?” Mimi queried gently.

“Please, Mimi….just tell him for me. Comfort him. I can’t do it. Marcello is handsome and clever and kind. I’m a selfish and vain woman, Mimi…..he deserves better.” Musetta was trying to convince herself, more than Mimi, that this was true.

“I won’t do it. If you want to break Marcello’s heart—you will have to do it yourself.”

“Mimi, please….what good am I to anybody if I cannot take care of myself? Marcello and Rodolfo can’t afford firewood! It’s useless….I won’t be a burden. I came to Paris to become a singer….I’m afraid, Mimi. I’m afraid that if I don’t do this, I’ll resent him someday.”

In the end, Mimi relented reluctantly. Musetta was still crying when she left the apartment and Mimi pitied her.

She would tell Marcello in the morning. Mimi took out her little mother-of-pearl rosary and prayed until she fell asleep, for the friends that she loved so dearly.

 

[ariosto]

"Rodolpho you are a bastard!"
His friend sat glumly, arms crossed looking out the rain streaked window of their old loft. Rain that was turning rapidly to sleet.
The chess board lay neglected between them.

"Did you hear me!...Mimi is in a terrible state...she came to me crying..CRYING for god's sake!...She believes you have another woman. Do you?"

The poet sat staring straight ahead, as silent and cold as the long dead stove in the corner.

"Do YOU!...tell me dammit...who is she!"

Finally Rodolpho spoke.
"Who it always is... the 'muse'"

Marcello exploded!

"DAMN YOU!
This is about people, about flesh and blood about your lover...Go to hell with your poetic metaphores...Go to hell with your words!"

Rodolpho leaped up from the table.
"Look to your own house! Your not so well off yourself!"

"What are you talking about."

The poet turned on his friend.
"Musetta is who I'm talking about!"

A look black as night crossed Marcello's face, his fists clenched into knots...
"What do you mean."

"No..no!, I'm not her lover!...but neither are you... anymore."
He sat back down and stared morosely at the chessboard., mate in three, unavoidable.

"Mimi, told me."
He said quietly.
"Musetta is through with you. She's going back to Bordeaux."

 

[Morgana]

Rodolfo felt instantly remorseful for what he had just said to his best friend but it was too late.

“Apparently Musetta needed money,” Rodolfo said in a softer voice. “Mimi said she was very upset last night. I’m sorry, Marcello.”

Marcello’s face was an impenetrable mask.

“Do you want to be alone?”

Marcello nodded gruffly but said nothing.

Rodolfo went downstairs, knocked on Mimi’s door, and entered. She was sitting on her bed brushing her soft brown curls.

“I heard shouting. Are you two fighting again?” Mimi asked sharply.

“I told him, Mimi.”

“What? How did you--?”

“Rodolfo looked guilty. “I just kind of blurted it out.”

“You idiot, Rodolfo!” Mimi jumped up and stared accusingly at her lover.

“You’re right, Mimi. I am an idiot….and a bastard.” Rodolfo slipped his arms around her waist and pulled her against him. “There’s no other woman, my little one, but you.” He kissed her forehead. It was hot to the touch. “You’re burning up.”

“It’s nothing….a cold. I’m used to it,” Mimi responded, resting her head against his shoulder.

Rodolfo’s heart sank. Every time he looked at the frail woman in his arms he saw a ghost. And it terrified him.

 

[ariosto]

Marcello took a last look around the place. It was full of memories and full of regrets. The old 'gang' had dissolved completely, everyone going there own way...
He shrugged. Maybe it was time he took his leave of the past as well.
He never even glanced towards the door of Mimi's room, though he heard their voices from within.

Outside the rain was quickly turning into sleet and he wrapped his thin coat tight around him.
He had just enough money in his wallet to drown himself in cheap wine or...

"Bon soir, handsome one...are you lonely?"

He was startled. Though the neighborhood had seen better days, much better days, it had never been the haunt of street walkers.
This one was pretty, amazingly enough...yes very pretty indeed.
Maybe it was what he needed to forget.

Her price was right, though he'd go hungry until his next payday from the café.
Her name was Sophie and she agreed to go with him at a slight discount if they'd use the old loft around the corner rather than walking the distance to her own meager room.

So what if Rodolpho came hammering at it.
So what...

 

[Morgana]

Sophie leaned toward Marcello and whispered intimately in his ear as they walked toward the loft. She linked her arm with his and gave him her most dazzling smile. It wasn't often she found such an attractive escort. She was a tall and slender beauty with lovely, silky dark hair and brown eyes fringed with long lashes.

As Sophie fumbled with the key to the loft, she felt Marcello's arms around her waist, sliding over the bodice of her dress, grazing her breasts with the tips of his fingers. She couldn't afford a coat; her shawl fell lightly to the floor as they slipped inside the dark loft, his hands never leaving her body.

She felt around in the darkness until her fingers closed around a candle and she asked him for a match. She admired his handsome profile in the soft light as the candle flame ignited, illuminating his olive complexion and dark eyes.

Sophie wrapped her arms around Marcello's neck and pressed her body wantonly against his own. She brought her lips to his mouth and kissed him. She heard his quick intake of breath as she slid her tongue between his lips, letting the tip of her tongue explore the roof of his mouth.

The relentless chill of the winter wind outside was soon forgotten...

 

[ariosto]

She was nearly as tall as he...not a fiery package like Musetta but long and cool....her lips were sweet on his own, her tongue was taunting his...beckoning...taste me...taste me....
She was pressing against him, caressing his thickening cock between them...moving her hips slowly and provacatively. Marcello could feel her body sliding within the confines of her clothes.


The room was cold, the small coal fire he coaxed to life inside the grate provided a golden flickering illumination but little in the way of heat.
Sophie had turned down the thick quilts on her bed and was sitting there watching him like a big tawny catunder heavy lidded eyes.
He too in this light resembled a big cat, a lion, prowling about a flickering campfire.

"Come here, handsome one...I'll warm you."
Her voice was deep...contralto...purring.

He knelt before her and cupped her knees...
"I'll warm you first, Vixen."
She watched his hand slide slowly up the length of her inner thigh.
She smiled...stretched...lay back on a goose down pillow and spread her legs enough to give him a glimpse of the rose tinted
petals that nestled in the dark valley.

"Touch me lover..."
She whispered..."Touch me and take me with your mouth...
I command you."
She laughed, a deep mischievious laugh but Marcello intended to do just what she'd 'commanded' of him.

 

[Morgana]

Marcello slid his hands slowly up and down the length of Sophie's inner thighs, caressing, exploring--molding her flesh in his hands the way a sculptor handles a piece of clay. She watched his every movement, her lips half parted in a smile, her hair hanging loosely about her shoulders. She moved her hands up her body and began to unfasten the tiny buttons of her dress until her breasts spilled out, the nipples already beginning to swell tantalizingly. He watched her hands slide over the soft skin, the long slender fingers stopping to tweak and pinch her nipples until they hardened. Marcello couldn't take his eyes off her.

"Do I distract you, monsieur?" she inquired teasingly, her hands working their way into his hair.

Marcello wanted to see every inch of her long, lithe body and he tugged at her dress, sliding it off. If Musetta, with her creamy skin and voluptuous curves, was Aphrodite--Sophie was Artemis. She was the huntress, as elusive and wild as the woodlands she inhabited.

He brought his lips to her abdomen and kissed his way to a pretty little beauty mark on the far left side. He kissed down the length of her thigh, then sucked lightly on the sensitive flesh inside, his mouth a few mere inches from her sex. Sophie sighed and parted her thighs; she moved her fingertips in circles over her breasts. Marcello could feel the hot flush of her skin warming against his eager mouth and lips. He flicked the tip of his tongue over the dampening folds of her sex and tasted her.

The dark haired beauty above him emitted a throaty moan.

"Ohhhh.....yessss....don't stop."

 

[ariosto]

Her slender fingers gently pulled the folds away from her pearl, revealing the rose hued glistening
petals below.
"oh yesss....don't stop."

Marcello got comfortable and lay between her legs, taking a moment to look at the secret beauty of her sex...he blew gently across the length of it and then his fingers joined hers to spread and open her mysteries.
His tongue danced up the length of her swelling lips and then paused to tease the hard bud of her clit from it's hiding place...he licked the tender skin around it, then gently sucked it into his mouth.
She gasped and he felt her hand twine into his hair, pulling his face against her.
He worked the litle button with his tongue as he sucked, his own body responding with a throbbing erection to the taste of her.
His hands slipped under her, squeezing the firm cheeks of her ass and raised her from the warm sheets. His tongue licked down and opened the passage to her womb...he plunged in deep, swirling around the tight hot walls of her sex.
She arched up thrusting herself against his mouth.
She was delicious...she was on fire, he could feel her tensing up, shuddering. His own cock was weeping precum.
If she were to go right now, he knew he'd not be able to contain himself...

 

[Morgana]

He was devouring her with his lips and tongue. Even the heat of his breath against her sex was intoxicating. She thrust her hips against his mouth, panting. Her movements were primal, erratic, and unabashedly lustful. She spread her legs wide for him and watched him through eyes half lidded with passion.

When his tongue penetrated the moist tunnel of her sex, Sophie drove her hips against his mouth and shuddered. Her breathless cries filled the room and Marcello tasted the seeping wetness brought on by her "little death."

Marcello shifted his position and slid the swollen, glistening tip of his cock along the open folds of her wet sex as Sophie continued to orgasm. Her tremors pulsated deliciously against his cockhead. With a low, gutteral moan, Marcello was driven into a state of oblivion as he flooded the lips of her sex and her soft inner thighs with the hot milky fluid of his release.

They lay together entwined under the warm quilts as the embers of the fire began to dissipate and the shadows of the afternoon lengthened into twilight.

 

[Turk-Rakker]

Gérard Bordeaux

"It's negotiable of course Musetta."
Gerard Bordeaux swirled the brandy in his Venetian crystal goblet and smiled sweetly.
"Very negotiable."

Musetta was standing by the fire, looking out across the rooftops at the moon rising over Montmartre.
She said nothing.

"Many little divas would like to play Violetta opposite the Great Fartoli and I could have them for a lot less than I'm offering you."
Was that a note of exasperation in his voice?

She turned, wiping away all thoughts of Marcello and what he might be doing right now.
"Ten thousand francs now Gérard and five thousand more per month...every month and..."

"And what my pet?"

*forgive me...my love...forgive me.*

"And...I will accept your...terms."

Bordeaux rose ponderously from the divan, lamp light glittered off the rings on his heavy fingers as he put his hands on Musetta's
shoulders.

"I knew you would see the wisdom of this."
He kissed her on the lips and she supressed a shudder.

She watched numbly as his big hand gathered the material of her blouse together...
"Don't worry my sweet little slut you'll be dressing in silk after tonight."

*MARCELLO!*
Her mind shreiked as the Director of the Paris Opera tore the clothes from her body.

 

[Morgana]

Musetta

For three weeks Bordeaux had had to put up with his shrewish English wife in Paris. It was too much for any man to bear, certainly too much for the lusty Directeur. And now his wife was safely installed back in England where she belonged and he had Musetta all to himself. She was his again at last. And he’d wanted her back in his bed since the day she had left it.

Tonight he would have her.

The thin fabric of her blouse tore easily. He cupped her full, naked breasts in his hands and squeezed, pushing his thumbs against her nipples. He found Musetta’s look of surprise stimulating as he continued to roughly undress her. He ripped the seam at the back of her skirt and pulled it down past her creamy thighs until it lay discarded at her feet. He made fast work of the stays that held her corset in place, hearing her sharp intake of breath as he pulled her demandingly against his body. She felt his hands tugging impatiently at her undergarments until they too fluttered to the floor. A flush of color crept to her cheeks as his eyes greedily drank in the sight of her bare form, lingering on the soft triangle of her sex—and Musetta was not one to blush easily.

Gerard pressed his lips to the snowy flesh of her neck. There was a spot just a few inches below her earlobe that he remembered she loved having kissed. He sucked and nibbled the tender flesh and almost smiled when he felt her shiver and tip her head back. He guided her delicate hands to the sash that held his dressing robe.

“Touch me, little diva,” he commanded and continued to devour her neck.

Musetta undid his robe and his erect cock sprang free, the reddened tip dotted with the moisture of his raging arousal. She cupped her fingers and stroked firmly but slowly up and down his length. Gerard groaned and tore his lips from her neck. A little red mark appeared where his mouth had been.

Gerard’s hands were suddenly in her hair. She felt the insistent downward push and knew what he wanted.

Musetta slid down and sank to her knees in front of the distinguished director. He brought the tip of his cock to her soft, heart-shaped mouth, urging her lips to part, coating them with pre-cum. He angled his hips so that when she opened her lips his cock slipped easily into her damp mouth. With one long stroke, he filled her mouth and she began to suck on the rigid member sliding in and out, as he eagerly pushed his hips back and forth.

“Ohhh….yes…..my pretty little whore,” Bordeaux breathed raggely, “ I knew those capable lips excelled in many pursuits other than song.”

 

[Turk-Rakker]

Bordeaux's big hands were wrapped in the long tresses of her hair. He watched in feverish arousal as her full soft lips slid up and dowm the length of his throbbing shaft.

The sensations were delicious, this was something his wife didn't tolerate and had given him all the excuse he needed to keep a string of mistresses. Of course Musetta wasn't his mistress..not yet anyway.

"More passion, my dear...suck it like it's made of gold, for indeed it might be!"
She felt his laugh, vibrate through the hot meat engorging her mouth. Her tongue quickened across the weeping tip and her hand closed tight around his buttocks, drawing him closer to her face.

"Ahhhh...yess, much better, much better..."
He felt the wave rising within him and considered pulling away and taking her right there on the carpet, but why rush...they had all night and Boudreaux prided himself on stamina and amazing recuperative powers.

Musetta's free hand began to squeeze and caress his heavy sac, rolling the aching nuggets within.

He tensed, felt his control evaporating in the face of cascading arousal...
In the mirror he could see her beautiful body as it knelt before him, abaseing herself...servicing his cock...

With hardly a warning he began to cum. Musetta's mouth was suddenly full of thick warm spend and she tried to pull back but his hands held her face pressed against him...There was no choice, she began to swallow...so much...so much!

"That's it little pet, enjoy it...all of it."