La Boheme

[Morgana]

Musetta

The first spurt of Bordeaux’s climax rushed into Musetta’s mouth and down her throat. She tried to move away before the second onslaught came but his hands held her head firmly in place leaving her little choice but to swallow or choke. Musetta would not give him the satisfaction of choking. With another push of his hips and a deep groan, Bordeaux emptied himself completely into Musetta’s captive mouth. His cock still seemed to throb with a life of its own as he finally pulled it slowly from her lips.

He looks so smug. Musetta thought, watching him get up to refill his wine glass.

“Would you like some wine, my coquette? Or has your thirst been satisfied?”

“I don’t require anything else, thank you monsieur,” she answered with curt politeness and sat down on the bed.

“Oh….but I do, my dear,” he answered smiling at her. “Consider that little interlude merely the overture. We haven’t even gotten into the first act yet.”

He took a handkerchief and gently wiped the drops of cum away that remained on her bottom lip and chin, his other hand sliding against her cheek and tracing the delicate line of her jaw. Her face was flushed and her eyes bright. Bordeaux moved to sit behind her and began to brush her hair with a sterling silver brush while caressing her back and shoulders. She could feel his breath hot on her neck. Musetta shivered.

“Lie down, my sweet and close your eyes," he whispered in her ear.

Musetta opened her mouth to say something but Bordeaux’s mouth descended upon hers and she could only vocalize a quick gasp. His tongue plunged between her lips and swirled over the roof of her mouth in an insistent tango while his hands pressed her down onto the bed.

Bordeaux watched her closely, waving his hand in front of her face to make certain her eyes were indeed shut. She was his….and the night was young.

She felt him sliding his large hands up and down her thighs, felt him caressing her knees in slow circles. Each stroke was practiced…deliberate…..he was easing her legs apart.

“Tell me, Musetta….did you enjoy having my prick between those pretty lips?” She could feel his fingers moving slowly up her inner thighs.

She couldn’t answer….or wouldn’t answer. She bit her bottom lip. Despite her efforts to control the smouldering stirrings in her loins, her body betrayed her. She was responding to him. Relucantly and against her will....but completely and undeniably.

He slipped a thick finger between the reddening petals of her sex and smiled to himself….so wet. He spread the slick moisture over her labia and clit, the little bud hard to the touch. It seemed to burst against his thumb as he rubbed back and forth.

Something cold and hard was sliding its way between her moist sex lips. Musetta quivered and opened her eyes. It was the long, sleek silver tipped handle of the brush he had been using on her hair only minutes earlier! She whimpered.

“Ohhhhhhhhh.”

Bordeaux slid the handle deeper inside her wet passage and watched Musetta writhe and arch her hips. In……and….out, it moved, Relentless. The thumb that continued to rub her little pearl was coated with her juices.

“Please….” Her eyes met his. Wave after wave of pleasure was washing over her body, ravaging her senses, and making her crave the intoxication of release. If he continued--oh, if he continued much longer, she was going to explode.

 

[Turk-Rakker]

The handle was a full ten inches long and slightly curved, the end swelled gently into a ball and the silver shaft was engraved with a hunting scene.
Bordeaux watched with delight as the fox and it's pursuers disapeared again and again into the tight slick channel of Musetta's vagina, to emerge glistening with the sweet nectre of her arousal which he licked off with his thick fat tongue.
His fingers were skillfully pinching and rubbing her sensitive bud between them, radiating waves of cascading pleasure out to her finger tips.
In spite of herself she arched back on the divan, her arms thrown wide in abandon and allowed him free play with her intimate places.

He was a gourmond of female flesh.
As the brush handle filled and teased her passage, his mouth and lips were tasting and exploring everything between her legs. Long wet licks across her swelling petals and then her sweetly tortured pearl suddenly sucked deep within his mouth.
She gasped!

He raised his head and pulling the brush from her body, licked it free of her juices before her eyes.
Her sheath now empty, was in an agony for more.

"Ahhh my little Musette, now we come to the main course eh?"
His hands pulled her knees wide apart and he sank between them.
"Now I will taste that delicious little cunt. It's what I've dreamed of since I first saw you."

"Open yourself for me, my little whore...spread yourself wide for my tongue."

 

[Morgana]

Musetta felt Gerard's breath hot and close on her damp sex, his hands rubbing the soft flesh of her inner thighs. He waited for her to obey his request, to open herself for him. To surrender. The craving in her body overwhelmed all reason. With a desperate moan, she opened the crimson, glistening folds of her sex!

Without preamble, Bordeaux plunged his tongue into the wet, velvet walls of her cunt. Over and over again, his thick, agile tongue impaled her. He grabbed her hips and pulled her against his mouth, sucking on her clit and lapping at the juices that flowed steadily from the center of her body like rich wine. He grew drunk from the musky sweetness of her taste, his lips coated with the moisture that assured him of her undeniable arousal. Musetta submitted to the dark pleasure that he gave her. She cried out repeatedly, her lips parted and her head thrown back. She moved against his mouth while Bordeaux thrust his tongue deep inside her once again. He pressed lightly on her hard little clit and felt her quiver and buck underneath his ministrations.

A new trickle of moisture seeped into Bordeaux's mouth and he licked slowly up and down the pink petals of her sex even as she continued to climax, her hands entwined in his hair, her body trembling with the heady ecstacy of her orgasm.

"You are as intemperate as Venus, my little whore," Bordeaux told her with a satisfied smile before his mouth descended upon hers.

His cock was a steel rod pressing against her thigh. The feel of it was already making Musetta crave more.

 

[Turk-Rakker]

His mouth was full of the taste of her and her scent clung to his face and whiskers as Bordeaux pulled himself reluctantly away.
It had been his desire to work her slowly with tongue and fingers before he had his final 'desert' but the girl had bred a furious impatience in him and now he wanted...No he NEEDED to plunge his cock into her as hard and forcefully as he possibly could.

His breathing was fast and ragged, his hands fumbled with his trousers but soon they were off and his erection jutted forth like a thick, veined maypole.
"Get on your hands and knees for me, little Diva...I'll make you sing allright!"

Musetta's own arousal was overwhelming the revulsion she felt for the man and she found herself almost unbelievably following his every command.

"Yessss..that's right, like a bitch...a bitch in heat....let me see your ass, precious one."

His big hands spread her cheeks apart and he began to ravage her tiny hole with his tongue!
The shock of the act seemed to excite her even more and she collapsed onto her crossed arms her sex now elevated and wide open for any carnal act he chose to indulge in.

She'd never felt a mans mouth on her ass, a tongue buried deep...
It was depraved!, Wicked!...it was...delicious....

"Mon Dieu...Gerard...mon dieu...."

As delectable as this was, his more urgent need was penetration, to imbed his aching, throbbing cock in the center of her hot body and now, grasping it's pulsing length in his fist, that was what he was going to do!

 

[Morgana]

Musetta

Musetta could see their reflection in the large mirror in front of her. Within its gilded frame of little brass cherubs and dancing nymphs, she saw herself kneeling down on the floor with Gerard behind her, one hand poised holding his swollen purple veined cock, the other pulling her narrow waist roughly toward him.

Suddenly she could feel the hard, rounded tip of his staff pressing and rubbing against the dripping entrance of her sex. He ran it over the silken petals of her labia, making her shiver as he made contact with her sensitive clit.

“Don’t tease me, Gerard,” she intoned wantonly, wiggling her ass tantalizingly before him, “s’il vous plait….fuck me.” The words hardly seemed her own; and yet, she had one singular desire…to be filled, to quench the aching need that flowed from the center of her aroused body.

“Oui, ma petite,” he growled in a low voice. And without pause, Gerard plunged inside her with a force that wrenched a loud gasp from between her parted lips. In one swift movement, he buried himself to the hilt within the soft, wet folds of her cunt!

‘I’ve waited a long time for this, Musetta, and I’m going to make it last.” He began to move inside her with torturously long, hard slow strokes. Her soft moans fed the ardor of his lust and he delighted in the sensual movement of her hips and ass as she moved to meet his thrusts.

Musetta tightened her inner muscles around his thrusting cock, driving him only deeper inside her, and making him groan. He slipped a finger between her legs and began to rub her swollen bud.

“Ohhhhhhhhhh….” She trembled.

“Yes, yes my sweet.” She was driving him mad with the feverish intensity of her responses to him. He pumped harder and began to nibble on the delectable flesh of her neck.

He would impale her over and over again until he could feel her shuddering and quivering around his raging cock….until she cried out in ecstasy with his name on those cherry lips!

 

[ariosto]

Marcello left the last of his money on the dressing table and kissed Sophie's cheek.
"Tomorrow sweet boy?"
She smiled provacatively and lay her body close against him.
He laughed...
"You've taken my last sou!...May I come to you on credit then?
Am I that good?"

She sighed and drifted away, a suitably sad look on her face.
"Oh my poor Marcello I wish I could give you myself for free but the rent is due and my dear mother..."

He held a finger to her lips.
"Shhhh...I understand, and I'll return again when I'm rolling in francs."

She brightened, "Oh yes! Please do...we'll have such fun!"

The streets were dark and cold. He pulled his thin jacket closer to his body and considered what to do.
Go to Momus...drink with Rodolfo...Go home and try to warm himself by what heat he could squeeze from half a dozen lumps of coal?
Nothing sounded appealing but he realised that he was just going through the list for forms sake, he knew exactly where he was going.
It was a long walk to the faubourg where Bordeaux lived but there was no money for a cab.
He took a last long look at the cozy warm glow from Sophie's window and with a shrug of his shoulders set off into the night.



OOC....Morganna, I will post again as Bordeaux tomorrow...just wanted to get Marcello aimed in the right direction.

 

[Morgana]

Mimi

It was so late....so late. Almost morning. Dawn would approach very soon with its mysterious half lights, when the quiet streets of Paris would just begin to bustle with the officious duties of bleary eyed shopkeepers and the careless laughter of wealthy revellers, just returning from a night of sumptuous festivities.

Mimi sank into a cold bed and wondered where Rodolfo could be. The sheets felt cool against her flushed skin. The damp air in the sparsely heated room only made her cough more so she pressed nose and lips under the blankets in hopes of breathing warmer, kinder air.

This was the hour Mimi hated most. It seemed to her the loneliest hour of the day, this gentle but all too slow journey toward morning. The faces of her friends flashed across her mind, all with the same pitying look. They all thought she didn't know.

How wrong they were!

Spring would come soon though, Mimi assured herself, and she would be there to see it.

The sound of footsteps echoed outside in the hallway and Mimi sat up reflexively. It could easily be her neighbors returning home, and yet, Mimi hoped that it was Rodolfo arriving at last.

OOC: Feel free to pick up with Marcello, Bordeaux, or Rodolfo. We hadn't heard from Mimi in a while and I just thought we should.

 

[ariosto]

The maid at the door, a stern faced creature, said quite emphaticaly that Bordeaux was not at home.
Then why, Marcello wondered was Musetta here in this house tonight for the unmistakeable scent of her perfume was fresh in the air.

*Fool! You know why she's here!*
He stood on the porch, shivering in the cold as the door slammed behind him.

The night was bitter and the stars cold glimmer mocked him. He heard her voice and Bordeaux's drift faintly from above...

He spun and hammered on the door!

"Monsieur, I told you..."
The maid had opened the door a crack and Marcello slammed it open nearly knocking her down.

"To hell with your lies! Where is he...where is Musetta!"
The wretched girl scurried away, her eyes darting towards the staircase...
He took them to at a bound as the maid cried out...
"Monsieur Bordeaux!...MONSIEUR BORDEAUX!...He is in...He is inthe house!!"

The Opera director froze, his turgid cock ready to thrust yet again into Musetta's upturned ass.
"What the..."
The words died on his lips as Marcello, his face livid, burst into the room. Taking it all in at a glance, rage blinded him and he lunged at the director, striking him full in the chest and smashing him back against heavy oaken night table.
They both went down with a crash!
Musetta had retreated to the corner of the bed trying desperately to cover her nakedness, her eyes wet with tears, her face flushed with shame.

Her lovers face was contorted with fury...she'd never seen him this way...never.

Downstairs the hysterical maid had thrown on a wrap and was rushing out the door. The police station was only two blocks away.

Beneath Marcello's feet, Bordeaux was dying. The letter opener that had pierced his aorta was hidden beneath his body.
His heart beat for the last time as Musetta recoiled from the vicious slap she'd just recieved.

"Whore!...call me a whore will you?...Was I the first to stray...was I?"
Her words cut through the air like knife blades.

 

[Morgana]

Musetta

The words seemed to shrivel in Musetta’s throat, like leaves withered by the first frosty ravages of fall when she saw the blood. She bent over Bordeaux and shuddered disbelievingly when she saw there was no breath left in his body. Her face drained of all color, save for a red mark on her cheek, which would probably bruise by morning.

“My God, Marcello, what have you done?” she whispered. “Jealous fool…do you think I cared an ounce for him?” Musetta seethed with fury, striking blindly at Marcello’s chest with clenched fists.

“Musetta…,” Marcello reached to cup her cheek, softly this time, but she shrank away from him. She had wrapped a sheet around her body and now she hurriedly reached for some money on the bureau, which she stuffed into Marcello’s limp hand.

“Get out of here…hurry…hurry. If they find you….,” Musetta gasped. She pushed Marcello out the door. “Take the back stairs and run through the servants’ quarters.”

The maid would be returning shortly with the police. Musetta hastily slipped on one of Bordeaux’s wife’s dressing gowns. She tried not to look at the body on the floor. Gerard Bordeaux was not a nice man, and yet, Musetta knew he did not deserve to be murdered. It would come as no surprise to his rich set of friends that Bordeaux was killed on a fit of blind jealousy by one of his mistress’s former lovers.

The maid returned with two policemen at her side, even more quickly than Musetta had anticipated. It was mid morning before they finished questioning Musetta and there were moments when she was certain they were going to arrest her. But they did not, and she was allowed to go home.

Musetta entered her flat wearily, her soft features marred by grief and anger.

The place was cold and Musetta found a match, leaning over the fireplace to stoke the fire.

She did not realize that she was being watched.

 

[ariosto]

"I'm hungry."
The voice was his of course. He'd been sitting in a chair looking out the window at the falling snow.
The room was dark and frigid.

Musetta finished lighting the fire and closed the grate, bars of warm light danced on the floor.

"Fool."
She said and sat heavily on the bed.

Marcello was silent.

"They know who you are of course. It was all I could do to prove I wasn't with you in this. I..."

"It was an accident!..I hated him! I hated you...for a moment too. But I never intended to kill him...Never."
He stood up and sat beside her on the bed.
"Musetta,"
His hand touched her cheek.
"Musetta I love you so much."

She felt herself melting and not from the faint heat of the stove.
"What shall we do!
Marcello, dear God!...what shall we do?"

He put his arm around her breathed deeply of her soft fine hair.
Should he tell her now of the steam ship tickets in his pocket. Two for New York, for a new world...

"I hunger for you."
He said and kissed her.

 

[Morgana]

His kiss was soft at first, just the brushing of his lips against hers. But when Marcello felt her respond, felt her lips parting for him, felt her sigh and reluctantly breathe his name, he kissed her with an urgency that underlined his proclaimed hunger for her.

"You are such a fool, Marcello," she repeated. But her voice was a seductive caress. He stood before her while she sat on the bed. Marcello's arms drifted around her waist, encircling her, pulling her against him.

Ohhh....she had missed him. In the time that they had been apart, Musetta had missed him desperately.

"My Marcello," Musetta said softly, her voice filled with worry, "there is so much we need to talk about...it might not be safe for--"

He silenced her with another kiss. His tongue slid between her lips and flicked teasingly over the roof of her mouth. His fingers were busy with the multitude of tiny buttons on the front of her dress.

"I really am starving," he told her again, his mouth on her neck, "and you have far too many buttons."

"It's the fashion," she answered. She almost smiled.

 

[ariosto]

The last button popped open as the clock on the nightstand gently chimed midnight.
Marcello buried his face against Musetta's warm chemise, her full breasts pressed against each cheek. His whiskers were rough against her soft flesh, she stroked his hair like a child.
The tension melted away like the wax from the burning candle on the mantle. His hands encircled her, drew her close.
She was safe harbor...sanctuary...calm.

He raised his head and smiled. She felt the glow of love burn strong. He was the sweet carefree Marcello of summer again. The tall, handsome, man of roses who had wooed her and won her.

She turned slowly and he untied the thin straps that crossed over her shoulders. His strong hands slipped around, raised and cupped her breasts. He pressed himself, pressed his stiffening cock against her thigh, whispering into the nape of her neck.
"I need you Musetta...I need you."

He took her there by the bed. Her dress lay in a pool around her feet, his hands pulling her hips, pulling her onto him as she leaned over the high soft bed. He entered her from behind, pressed himself into her warm tight sheath as far as he could and then stopped, relishing the feel of her around him, throbbing hot and thick inside her.

Musetta could see them both in the mirror beside the bed and watched as he slowly withdrew, his fingers caressing the small of her back and then thrust in again, to penetrate, to hold, to savor the delicious moment, pretending tomorrow would never come.