Musical Story or Love at First Fuck

Yes, my musical idol doesn't often grace our southern regions with his attention. So I was even surprised when one day, arriving on business in a neighboring town, I saw a poster with Him smiling the kindest smile. Naturally, I immediately rushed to the Kursaal box office for a ticket. Tickets were only left in the first and last rows, so I had to shell out a fair amount of money for the fourth row. I bought one ticket, as I didn't have a girlfriend, and my friends don't share my musical tastes.

And so the long-awaited day arrived. The concert started at eight in the evening and ended around ten, so I could catch the last bus home. With the trembling excitement of a true connoisseur

of music, I covered the nearly two kilometers from the bus station to the concert venue in fifteen minutes. At a quarter to eight, I was already sitting in my seat, eagerly awaiting the start. Finally, it began. First, the bassist came on stage, followed by the keyboardist, the drummer, and then He appeared. When the band's leader picked up the white electric guitar from the stand and played the intro to the first song, a breathless girl sat down in the empty seat next to me. My neighbor was of average height, stocky build but not too plump, with curly light golden hair almost down to her waist, large eyes the color of a sea lagoon, a snub nose, and faintly visible freckles on her velvety cheeks. She was dressed in a bright red summer outfit consisting of a top and a skirt just above the knees. Her beautiful tanned legs were in flip-flops, her right ankle adorned with a thin gold chain, and her fingernails and toenails were painted with white pearly polish. She looked no older than twenty-five. My neighbor was sucking on a caramel, judging by the smell, a barberry one. I really liked the girl; I was looking more at the stranger than at the stage, not knowing how to start a conversation with her.

However, when it came to the first slow song, the girl herself spoke up:

 — Beautiful song. I really like it.

 — Me too.

 — He's my favorite singer from Russia. I waited, and he came.

 — Yes, our people waited for this concert. Where are your friends sitting, or are you alone?

 — I don't have many girlfriends, and they're all married. Everyone's busy today. And in general, I like to be alone.

 — Young people, did you come here to listen to music or to chat? Could you be quieter? — a stout gentleman intervened, sitting with his wife next to the girl.

We decided to postpone getting better acquainted until after the concert and fell silent, enjoying the music. When the concert ended, I offered to walk the girl home, and on the way, I learned that her name was Diana, she was thirty-two (I was surprised when I found out), works as a piano teacher at a music school, divorced her alcoholic husband three years ago without having had time to have children, and hasn't found anyone decent since then. While talking with Diana, I completely forgot about the time. Our path passed by the nightclub "Moby Dick," where I had been a few times before. There weren't many visitors; we sat at a free table closer to the dance floor and placed an order. A bottle of cognac for the two of us did its job — I became more relaxed with Diana, and she with me. Finally, someone named Igor decided to order a slow song for his beloved Natasha in honor of her birthday. I invited Diana to dance; at first, we danced "like pioneers" — holding hands and lightly touching bodies. Even now, I could feel the heat of her trembling body under her summer outfit, and when, in the middle of the song, Diana hung on my neck and pressed her soft belly against me, I was struck like lightning. I involuntarily began kissing Diana on the lips, first childishly, then like an adult, but she pushed my tongue out of her mouth.

Around half past one in the morning, visitors started to leave; the club was getting boring.

 — It's hot. Let's go swim in the sea, — Diana suggested, — I love the night sea and go swimming at night when I can't sleep.

 — Let's go.

 — Turn around, — Diana asked, taking some kind of bag out of her purse. I obeyed. When I turned back, she was standing before me not in her outfit but in a turquoise swimsuit. Droplets of sweat glistened on her enticing tanned body; the girl's navel was adorned with a small gold earring, her left breast with a heart-shaped mole, and her right buttock with a tattoo depicting an orchid.

 — Now you turn around, — I asked. Diana turned away; I pulled off my T-shirt, white stretch jeans, and underwear and put on the swim trunks I had brought just in case. We got into the water, which was as calm as a pool and as warm as fresh milk. We fooled around like children, splashed each other, and raced swimming. I took Diana in my arms and began kissing her on the lips; this time she didn't resist but let my tongue into her tender mouth. A passionate kiss with the taste of salty seawater lasted about fifteen minutes.

After the night swim, I walked Diana home. She lives in the old town, not far from the embankment, so we decided not to call a taxi but to stroll through the night city. The walk took about twenty minutes. As we approached the house where Diana lives, a pleasant freshness blew in from the sea, the haze in the west had drawn closer, the outlines of a thundercloud were already visible in the sky, occasionally split by lightning, and distant rolls of thunder could be heard.

 — I gather you have nowhere to spend the night, — Diana said in a sympathetic tone, — Come on! Just quietly, or you'll wake up my Muscovites.

Diana showed me the summer shower and toilet and gave me a towel. I washed off the sweat and sea salt, then Diana went to shower. I went into the temporary summer house where my newfound friend lived in the summer when she rented out the main house to vacationers. The temporary house consisted of a kitchen and one room, which contained a double bed, a Soviet-era folding armchair, a table, a wardrobe, and a couple of chairs. On the wardrobe stood a small TV, on the table lay a Yamaha synthesizer and a closed laptop, and on the wall hung a black acoustic guitar. I took the guitar and quietly began to play.

 — Do you compose anything of your own? — I asked Diana, pointing to the synthesizer when she returned.

 — Yes. I try to write my own music. And you, I see, play too? Is that your theme?

 — Mine.

 — Beautiful.

 — It would be interesting to hear your music.

In response, Diana turned on the laptop, rummaged through folders, and a beautiful, enchanting melody flowed from the built-in speakers.

 — Cool! "Enigma" can take a break.

 — Alright, it's almost four, time to sleep. Sleep here, — she pointed to the unfolded armchair. I lay down dressed on the offered sleeping place, Diana turned off the light and lay down on the bed.

The folding bed I was lying on turned out to be far from ideal — its central leg sagged, and my soft spot sank deeper and deeper toward the floor. This circumstance prevented me from falling asleep. My tossing and turning woke Diana, who had already dozed off.

 — Can't sleep?

 — Yeah, something's wrong with the chair.

 — I completely forgot, it's broken. Alright, lie down with me, just don't pester me!

I undressed down to my underwear, lay down next to Diana, and began to drift off to sleep. I was awakened by a close clap of thunder, like a cannon shot. A gust of cold wind burst through the open window.

 — I'm cold, hug me! — Diana mumbled through her half-sleep.

I turned to the girl, pressed against her in a "spooning" position, and hugged her from behind around the waist. My little friend, feeling a woman's behind, began to show signs

of life and bulge out of my underwear. Blood pounded heavily in my head, and sleep vanished completely. Apparently, Diana felt this; she turned to face me and began kissing me herself, but not like on the beach, but hard, passionately. She didn't resist when I took off her underwear, kissed her neck, her firm size-four breasts with large bright pink nipples pointing upward and veins visible through the skin, her velvety, slightly rounded belly, and teased with my hands her neat, smoothly shaved little mound. The girl lay on her back with her legs spread and quietly moaned.

 — How long are you going to mess around? Just fuck me already! — she said in a languid voice.

Diana pulled me to her with one hand and with the other inserted my working tool into her sweet girl. At that moment, the sound of rain was heard outside the window. Diana's tight little hole tightly squeezed my property, a sharp and intense pleasure shot like lightning through my entire body. The girl was experiencing the same as I: she writhed beneath me, growled and grunted, kissed me passionately like a madwoman, pressed her breasts against me and rubbed her nipples on me, hugged me so tightly I marveled at where so much strength came from in a woman's hands. The rain outside intensified and turned into a heavy downpour, large drops drummed on the roof, eaves, and windowsills. Our moans merged with the sounds of the rain into a sweet symphony. I moved with broad strokes at a medium pace, Diana moaned louder and louder, she had already bitten my lips all over and scratched my entire back until it bled. I felt the approach of the inevitable; my swollen-to-the-limit member was pricking with thousands of needles, ready to explode with a stream of life-giving moisture at one wrong move. Outside, it was pouring as if from a barrel, and large hailstones began to clatter on the roof of the temporary house. Diana sensed I was about to finish.

 — Hold on a little, honey, I'm almost there, — she moaned in a sobbing voice.

It was already unbearable to hold back without slowing down. The arousal reached such a force that my hardened balls began to ache and my vision darkened. Clenching my will into a fist, I silently endured the sweet torture. Finally, Diana moaned louder, louder and…

 — Come inside me-e-e-e-e!!! My love-e-e-ed!!!

That was the last straw for me. My overexcited end shot, generously drenching Diana's insides with sperm. I had never had such a powerful orgasm with any girl. Our climaxing bodies were an electrified tangle of human flesh, merged in two kisses simultaneously.

Meanwhile, the rain gradually subsided and then stopped altogether. We went out into the yard, sat on the sofa in the gazebo, and smoked. The air smelled of rain-freshness, puddles stood in the yard, the cloud was moving eastward, and dim stars broke through the buttermilk clouds in the light-blue pre-dawn sky. The phone clock showed twenty minutes to five, but I didn't feel like sleeping.

 — Want more? — I offered my hasty passion.

 — You even have to ask? Let's go!

We went back into the temporary house. Diana turned on the laptop for some reason and connected it to the speakers.

 — What's this going to be? — I inquired.

 — I love having sex to music.

 — You know, me too.

 — Then choose: eastern drums, "Enigma," Brazilian carnival, flamenco, saxophone, Irish folk…

 — Oh! That's the one. Sets a good rhythm.

And so, thanks to that concert, I met the girl of my dreams. Diana and I have been together for three years now, two of them in a legal marriage, we have a beautiful little daughter growing up, a copy of her mom. We have a joint music project and already have a debut album. We still love each other to bits and fuck like rabbits.