Worthy of An Opera

WORTHY OF AN OPERA

This story is fully based on real life events. None of it is made up.

I'd finished my degree and my teacher-training, and I was 23, a professional teacher. Today was a Saturday morning, and I walked down to the nearest launderette with a bundle of clothes for washing. The first time I used one of those machines, in my innocence I cheerfully put everything in at once, including my rather nice red sweater. I only realised there was a problem when I noticed that the water in the machine had become very red, and so did all the other clothes when I managed to stop it. Idiot!

Anyway, I was always very careful after that, making sure that nothing smuggled itself in that shouldn't be there. I bent double as I put handfuls in the machine, one after the other. As I stood up, I was poked in the back, and a woman's voice said 'It is you! I thought I recognised you from behind.' When I turned round, I was delighted to see it was Olive -- she was an old friend, who had been a couple of years behind me at school, and our families had known each other. She'd come to the same university as me, and was living with Charlie, her boy-friend, in their final year. I hadn't seen her for some time.

Once she'd put her own bundle of clothes in another machine we went off for a coffee. 'I've been wondering how to find you,' she said. 'We're doing our next opera, and I want you to be in it.' I was surprised. l pointed out that yes, I could sing, but it was choral, or individual folk, or jazz or rock, not opera. She laughed. 'No', she said. 'It's a non-singing part.'

'Oh.' I wasn't sure of what I thought about that. 'So -- what's the opera?'

'Pretty straightforward', she said, 'you'll be the devil, the Evil One, The Black Huntsman. Not a big part but a crucial one, and very appropriate for you...' She smiled at me and patted my cheek. So of course I said yes, she told me the time frame, the date of performance, and off we went for the next six months of rehearsal, learning my part, getting the gear I was to wear and so on and so on. And eventually meeting the rest of the cast.

The week of the opera performance was successful and indeed a hit. Every evening there was a decent audience, with the most tickets bought for the last day on Saturday. In the actual week of performance I didn't wander around, or hang out in the Green Room waiting to be called. I sat in the wings and waited for my shocking appearance with music blaring, grim high-lighting illuminating my devilish dress, my wicked make-up and my voice cutting through like a sharp saw as I counted out the evil bullets that were to be the damnation of the hero.

Enough of that. The story I'm telling only really got going during the after-performance party. The main people I had personally been involved with in the last six months were, mainly of course Olive and Charlie, young Rachel, who was a student at the Arts College with her skills at dealing with my costume and make-up, and was very, very attractive, and Rob, who was current President of the opera club, and his wife Meg. I quite fancied Rachel, but she was a bit young for me. As for Rob, he was socially rather awkward, and obviously thought he was very important, though he was the only one who thought that. There were some other people I'd got to know during the six months because they were around during my visible and audible appearances in rehearsal. The post-final show party was on the Sunday after the last concert. So all of us -- something like fifty-odd people -- packed into the house. There were drinks and nibbles, and people were high, still thrilled at the opera and having been in it.

The first 'formal' event was an inevitable President's speech of gratitude from Rob. Everyone crowded in to the biggest room, and he was standing up on a little rostrum. Rob was not an engaging person, and the crowd didn't have high expectations. He was rather stiff, rarely seemed to be relaxed, didn't seem to have a sense of humour, and the closer you got to him, the more distant he seemed to want to be. His speech was inevitably dull, except that fortunately on this occasion he did manage to accurately produce a couple of word-pictures that amused people -- like the fact that one of the characters, who was a holy hermit dressed in a long brown gown with sandals on his bare feet, had drawn the attention of the cast onstage because he beat time as he sang, but did it with his naked big toe on the right foot going up and down in time. This had obviously been noticed by the choral cast, who managed with difficulty to stop themselves from laughing at it on stage, but made up for it now.

The Hermit, who hadn't realised what he had been doing, blushed red at the party, and the loud guffaws went well with Rob, who was delighted to have made people laugh. He also drew attention to the fact that Charlie, the hero, had knocked his musket off the chair it was leaning against during one performance. He had to pick it up quickly, because it would be needed soon to be fired. When he aimed the musket at the sky in character and pulled the trigger, a key moment which would condemn either him or a monster enemy to eternal damnation, the bang noise failed, and so Charlie had to rapidly improvise a gun noise. Which he did by making a noise like 'Kickhhh' in his throat, the least terrifying bang you could imagine. Another successful gag reminder from Rob, who by now was beside himself and convinced he was a small genius.

During the last bit of applause something very unexpected happened to me. I've mentioned Meg, Rob's wife. I hadn't noticed her or talked to her at all in the last six months, had no idea what she actually did, and I was surprised that they should be married at the early age they were -- they were both only 21. She was always very quiet, short, around five foot tall, and she rarely talked.. She turned out to be standing just in front of me in the crowd. Now, as Rob's talk came toward its end, and Rob was preening himself firstly about his big toe story and then about the un-bang of the musket, everyone standing up swayed with laughter and pleasure, and the whole crowd moved around laughing.

Meg, standing just in front of me, glanced round at me, then leaned back and wriggled her whole body from her shoulders down to her ankles against my chest and lower body. It was a sensationally unexpected moment. I jerked backwards, and apologised -- Ooh, sorry, er, er ... She turned her head again and smiled at me, and her eyes widened and seemed to twinkle, but she didn't say anything. After a moment, she turned her face away again.

I felt pretty guilty about it, and also rather worried that some people would think I had done something deliberately, and might have chucked me out. After all, I never felt I was one of the crowd, and I thought I wasn't regarded as a member of the gang. So I hastily withdrew from where I stood behind her. The packed room was splitting up anyway because the speech had finished, and people were making their way to food and drink in various other rooms. I looked behind me as I went. Meg was watching, and wrinkled her nose at me.

I couldn't make sense of what had just happened. Well, what exactly had happened? This person so dull, so quiet, so plain and invisible, very unattractive I thought, though I'd never really met her or even looked at her. Her party clothing today was a sort of thin cotton top and a long skirt down to the floor, both dull colours. What the hell had just happened? She was married. What was going on?

Come on, I thought to myself, let's forget it. I'm 23, and no longer part of university life, but I'm a working professional. So I shrugged, went off looking for food and drink, and ate and drank, and chatted to a few people I did know.

Another event started now, because someone had brought their guitar and was playing it and people were singing. The man was playing his guitar rather badly, and suddenly Olive appeared next to me, rolled her eyes and made a face, grabbed my wrist, and said 'Bloody hell, he's useless. Come on' She dragged me over to where he stood with his guitar, which was slightly out of tune. She tapped his upper arm and said 'Hey,' to him when he turned round, 'Let him have a go,' pointing at me. He looked at me and frowned, but after all she was the Big Cheese, and she obviously knew things about me, so he handed me the guitar.

He really wasn't very good, and Olive knew I happened to be a semi-professional guitarist. I played classical guitar with considerable skill, having studied with a genius local man who had himself very impressively studied with the great Segovia and was a friend of Julian Bream and John Williams, two other international greats. I also played guitar in folk groups, and electric guitar in jazz and dance bands. So I stepped forward, quickly tuned the instrument, performed, got everyone singing various popular stuff, and I sang them a couple of funny songs. After twenty minutes or so the owner of the guitar was scowling and was very pissed off at me. He demanded his guitar back and snatched it from me.

I shrugged, and thought I really ought to go. It was getting late, and I would have to get up at 7 am in the morning to get to school in time, so I started to make my way out, bidding farewell to those I knew. Half way there on my way to the front door, one of the older girls ran up to me, took my arm and dragged me over to Rachel -- remember her?

She pushed us together face to face and said 'Here you are, you two -- come on, and get on with it!! Have a good kiss.' Rather embarrassed, we did. I enjoyed it, but didn't know what I was supposed to do about it. It appeared that she had rather fancied me but was shy about approaching me. She was only 18, and we'd never really talked to each other.

We kissed and hugged a bit, and then separated. I turned round to go, thinking I wish I'd talked to her more, including how to make contact with her outside rehearsals, and then found myself face to face with Meg again. 'Don't I get a kiss?' Meg said loudly, flung her arms round my neck, pressed herself against me and pushed her lips at me. Her kiss was demanding, and I still didn't know what to do about it all. Was Rob going to appear and attack me, perhaps hitting me with the guitar? What was I supposed to say or do? Her arms tightened round my neck and she whispered in my ear 'I'm not wearing any knickers.'

Whoa! What? I may not have been all that experienced sexually, but this could hardly be considered subtle and suggestive. It sounded pretty direct. I stood back just a little, looked at her, and nodded gently and made a very slight head gesture away. Then I leaned forward, and whispered in her ear, 'Five minutes - outside?' She dropped her arms, and her eyebrows flickered for a second, and she turned away. I turned to Rachel with a kind of painful reluctant smile on my face, shrugged and said 'OK, see you soon,' and I went.

The front door out into the summer dark opened on to the drive which was about ten yards from the road, and there was a thick privet hedge against the wall at the edge of the garden. I walked out, turned a smart left and leaned against the wall. I could hear all the muffled rumpty-tumpty noise going on inside -- laughing, shouting, some pretty awful guitar playing, just a lot of night-party noise. I waited and then heard what I wanted to hear -- a sudden shift from muffled to loud noise, and then muffled again as the front door opened and closed, and then Meg appeared. She ran down the drive, looked around and ran at me, jumped against me, and I opened my arms. Her left hand went round my back and bang! her right hand plunged down and grabbed my cock through my thin trousers. 'Ahh,' she said, and her face looked full of excitement and delight as she squeezed me. 'I knew you'd have a big cock. Quick, let's find somewhere!'

'There's a little park just down the road,' I said, feeling fairly shocked, but thrilled at the feeling of her fingers playing with my hard-on. She grinned, took her hand off my cock and we ran down the road only about fifty feet, and there it was. We went in -- it was great, full of trees and shrubs and thick grass, dark, quiet and not overlooked. She dragged me into one of the corners, where it was really hidden. No houses, no windows over-looking, just the sound of running water from a little stream, There was a bench by the stream, and that's where we ended up.

We hurriedly plumped down on the bench together, and I reached for her. She muttered 'Fuck!' and pushed herself away from me, got up off the bench and dropped on her knees in front of me. She grabbed the belt of my trousers and fought it for a moment until she found out how to undo things and then dragged my trousers and underpants down to my knees. 'Oohh,' she whispered 'Look at that!' My cock was in one of her hands, her other hand was cupping my balls and she rubbed my cock all over her face, purring quietly and licking as she did it. Her mouth kept swooping down to suck me in and then she'd rub it against her face again. By now she was leaving sticky stuff all over her face..

This was the first time in my life anyone had done anything like this with my cock. I leaned back, feeling dizzy and excited and helpless, and my physical feelings were beyond words. She sucked and licked me, sometimes she lifted my cock and pushed it up flat against my belly so she could lick and miss my balls. All the time she hummed and I loved it. She was excited at what she had, and the humming sound and the kind of throbbing her mouth made at the same time was exquisite. I'd never known anything like that could happen. I didn't want it to ever stop.

But then it did. 'Here!' she said, and she stood up. She took hold of her dress around her knees, and lifted it up, rolling up all the material so that it was bundled round her waist. It was true, she didn't have any knickers on. She was naked from the waist down, and I leaned forward and was going to smell it and lick it and then was going to get my hands there, but she said crossly 'No! We don't have time!' She stepped back, then said, 'Here, hold this dress up for me'.

With the rolled-up dress in my hands and her naked from the waist down, she took hold of my cock again and started sliding her hand up and down slowly and squeezing, and as she did that she stepped forward facing me, straddled my legs, and slowly sat down on my cock. As it slid in -- so easily! She felt so wet and slippery! -- she groaned and said 'I knew you'd have a proper big cock. Aahh, oh god, it's -- ooh', and she began to rise and fall on me. The noise it made was gorgeous -- sticky and splashy and wet and occasionally farty-sounding, and we were both groaning and moaning, especially her. I put my hand gently on her mouth and said 'Shh! Someone will hear it.'

'I don't care,' she said, 'I just want that lovely big cock inside me again and again and again.' She bent her head and rested it on my shoulder, looking down and watching what my cock and her cunt-lips were doing. Then she straightened up and pulled her cotton top away from her body -- no bra either! She murmured 'Put your hands up there and feel my tits. Quick! Quick! Hurry up! Aahh!' My hands pushed up and had a wonderful welcome from a delicious pair of tits.

For some reason, I'd assumed she had flat breasts, and these lovely round soft grapefruit-sized tits with beautiful firm nipples were wonderful. I stroked them gently and then squeezed a bit, pulled on her nipples and loved it, while wow! she pushed my T-shirt up and started to play with my nipples. Another first! No woman had ever done that before. Fuck, she was astonishing. My whole body reacted and it all made my cock feel even bigger. When I lifted her top up and started sucking on her nipples, I thought we would both explode, with her going up and down on my cock with the occasional circular wriggle, and both of us having enormous pleasure from having our tits played with.

Suddenly she stiffened all over, stopped moving, and I could feel that something was happening in her cunt. I felt it contract and relax and do it again and again. A long groan climbed and then ended with a muffled shriek, and her whole body tightened and then loosened and she flopped on me. At that point, I felt something happening to my whole body. Of course it wasn't my first orgasm, of course not. But -- O My God -- it was the first orgasm that had ever shook my whole body, it was like nothing I'd ever felt before, and I was groaning too.

I don't know how we got away with it without someone calling the police, ambulance or fire brigade. But eventually we pulled ourselves together and got ready to move. I said 'Can we do this again?' She looked at me. 'Are you kidding? Of course we will. I've been wanting to get at you somehow or other, and we're definitely going to do it lots and lots of times.' She dropped her hands on mine, and pushed my hands back up against her tits, and made me rub her again.

'For the last two years' she said, ' I've had to put up with a tiny little cock never more than four inches long, and shitface doesn't have the faintest idea what to do with it. Fucking hell,' and her own hands dropped down to my cock and balls and played with them again - ' I really want to feel this thing so much -- how big do you think yours is?' I shrugged. 'No idea,' I said, 'I've never measured it.'

'I'd say it's around at least seven or eight inches long. I tell you what, next time, I'll bring a tape measure with me and we'll find out everything about it...' She kissed me, '... how big its circumference is and how thick and long. Yummy!'

We struggled to our feet, and slowly walked back to the house. The noise in the house was still going. 'I'll say I just popped outside to have a pee,' she said, and then asked - 'What's your address?'

I told her. 'Do you share with anyone?' she wanted to know. I shook my head. 'Just me,' I said. 'But I generally don't get home before about 6pm. Is that OK?'

'You bet,' she said. 'I think I might suddenly develop an active interest in joining some kind of training for accident treatment, which involves at least three evenings a week of teaching and learning sessions.'

'Does that include wearing knickers?' I asked, as I slid my hand up her leg to bid farewell to the finest cunt in the world.

'Absolutely', she said, then she paused and said 'with knobs on - or in!' Which left both of us sniggering with delight as we had one final hug, and she gave my now packed-away cock a gentle farewell squeeze.

She was true to her word. Next Tuesday evening she arrived at 6.30, and we spent three hours exploring every inch of each other's bodies, inside and out, taking it in turns in the comfort of a warm double bed rather than a dark damp bench. That's the way it went, I'm delighted to say.

No, we were delighted to say. We didn't both to count the number of orgasms we had, but after that first time we'd always spend about ten minutes slowly undressing and telling each other the brilliant new idea we'd thought of since the last time, and who would do what to the other, or what we wanted the other one to do to us. One of the big turning points was about three weeks later -- that was after eleven evenings of fucking -- she came in, and jumped on me sitting there waiting naked, and said 'I've got a great idea!! I was reading some books about sex, and I want you to work out what we're going to do this time.'

I laughed and said 'How am I supposed to guess? I haven't a clue.' She had begun to rip her clothes off and as her sweater went over her face her muffled voice said 'Here's a hint. It happens below the waist.'

I rolled my eyes. 'Well, come on, of course it does,' I said dismissively. 'It already does that for both of us,'. 'Ah, but not like this,' she said. 'Close your eyes -- here, put this on' and she tied a wide black material band round my eyes, so I couldn't see a thing, and then grabbed my cock. 'Right', she said, 'in two minutes you've got to tell me what's new and different.' She flourished my cock, and even with no vision I could tell she was wagging it around and licking it and sucking the end, and then I felt her putting it into her, but tighter than usual.

'OK,' I said, 'this is easy, I'm in your cunt,' and began to push further in and wriggle. But she laughed and groaned at the same time, and said 'No you're not. You're up my arse!!' and she shrieked with pain and delight and excitement, and then pounded up and down on me yelling and grunting and occasionally sounding as though she wanted to groan with pain but immediately following it with giggles and lascivious panting. I loved it especially because it meant that she was always rubbing her tits on my chest against me at the same time.

And that's how we explored anal sex, something we then made sure we did every time. Sometimes, when her period had come round we agreed that it would be even more fun to avoid her cunt and fuck her arse thoroughly, not bothering ourselves with tampons and stuff.

Christmas came early that year, and we made sure that the gifts we gave each other became steadily more and more unexpected and weird. And of course erotic. Happy time passed, and we really enjoyed our evenings together. We were lying in bed together closely one night, after two hours' worth of violent sex, when I finally got round to asking her the question I had been wondering about. I turned on my side facing her, rested my top leg over her thighs, and licked her nose. 'Hey' I said, 'I've meant to ask you before. How come you married Rob when you apparently couldn't stand him?'

She had closed her eyes when I licked her nose, maybe thinking I was going to start another guess-my-fuck of some kind. Now she opened them wide, and stared at me. Then she blinked and sighed, and said 'Well, it was my own stupid fucking fault'. She made a bit more distance between us, and after a bit of shuffling around with no talking, apart from occasional grunts, we ended up about an arm's length from each other, still on our sides, looking into each other's eyes with my right hand resting gently on her hip.

She sighed again. 'Ok. First, he was one of the boys I met really early when I started at Uni. That was at the Freshers' Day, and I'd already planned to find out about drama, or something like that, so when I saw the Opera Soc stall, I went and had a look. It looked good, and the people on it were friendly and welcome, telling me things about it. Olive was there and I really liked her. She asked me about what I wanted to do -- sing? (well yes, of course), help in various ways? (Er, yeah I guess so), and so on.

'Then Rob turned up -- he'd just gone and bought some food and drink for people on the stall. Olive told him, 'Rob, here's a new one', and handed me over. He was actually really good for me, explained things, and told me what kind of jobs I might choose from as well as just singing on stage. And of course I was a bit shy and completely new, so I followed him around.

'If I'd had any sense at all, I'd have waited before I got to know other boys rather than just him, but I didn't have any sense. I was young -- only seventeen and a half -- very fresh, inexperienced, and -- this is where the story really goes wrong -- completely innocent, but desperate to have my first sex. I'd been at a girls' school, had no brothers or boy-friends. And so' -- she waved a hand dramatically around -- 'as that first day went on, we talked and drank, and drank and talked and -- well, it ended up with him and me finding a quiet corner and having my very first snog. No proper sex yet (Meg waved a warning finger at me) but I really fancied him, and though he was a bit cautious, he did have a little squeeze of my tits.

'By the end of Fresher's' Week, I thought I'd lost my virginity when I had my very first cock in my cunt. I can't call it a fuck, because I hardly felt a thing, but I was still excited by the idea of it. Looking back later, and knowing how tidgy his little cock is, I really should have done a lot better. But I didn't. So we stuck together, and - well, (she sighed) after a few weeks he was convinced I'd be pregnant, took me home to meet his parents, talked to his very wealthy father, and before any of us knew what exactly was happening, we were married before the end of my first year.

'I wasn't pregnant, of course. He was thick enough for him to believe that just having his cock in me and him coming, it was certain I'd get pregnant. After that first week in fact I'd been shagging everyone I could get my hands on and their cocks inside me. I was determined to have a thorough experience of as many different cocks as I could get and I was using Marie Stopes's book and diaphragms, so there was no chance of getting pregnant.

'He didn't know that my aim was to get every possible cock, all shapes and sizes not his tiny little matchstick of a cock. But I have to say (and now she rolled herself closer to me in bed, put her arms round my neck, kissed me gently, and said) none of them had anything like your cock, or the sexy sensitivity that you've got. Anyway, that's how I ended up with Rob, and why I got stuck with him, and also why I really fancied you when I first saw you.' And then she climbed on top of me, sank my cock into her, and off we went for another fuck.

We never talked again about her and Rob until eventually, after about six months, we reluctantly had to stop everything, because he had just been appointed to a new job in Canada, and we had our final mammoth Farewell-Fuck-Friday-to-Monday for a whole weekend in February. He was called to spend four days in the Canadian Embassy getting full instruction about what his work was to be and Meg had to take a deep breath and launch herself into a new world, with no idea about how she'd manage her sex-life over there. The only good thing was that she didn't have to spend any time with Rob's irritating and smug parents.

We really got stuck into that weekend, and must have broken the world record for stiff cocks, slippery cunts mouths and arses, and a never-ending stream of orgasms. Neither of us could walk more than a few paces each day before we had to sit down and recover, so we had to stop after breakfast on Monday, because Rob was due back that night. Meg, with a stroke of genius, told him that the excitement of their moving to Canada had brought on her period a day early, and it would be a few days before they could have a shag, but she'd wank him every night instead.

It was a true farewell, and I really missed her. We never met again but we never forgot each other, and we entertained ourselves for years by asking what sex contacts each other had made, and whether there was anything new we could share with each other. We wrote letters using a code that we'd worked out before we separated, so that even if Rob read them, he wouldn't be able to tell what we were talking about to each other, and of course once e-mails appeared 20 years or so later we quickly got back into even easier contact. It turned out anyway that she'd left Rob after three years, and -- get this for perfection - had remarried a West Canadian who was as big as a lumberjack, and, she said, he had something even bigger than mine, to her delight.

By the way, when she measured me I was 81/2" long and my circumference tended to be 71/2" and occasionally, bigger than that. She really enjoyed that little job, and so did I. The day she did the cock-measuring she finished it up with a celebratory kiss on the knob-end, and announced that she'd decided to consider those statistics to be the basic norm for the base-line whenever she fancied a change in cocks. Later on, she also announced when she was telling me about her lumberjack that she'd decided he was Proto-Plus. I leave it to you to work out what the figures of her new cock could have been.

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