Beauty Pleasured by The Voice
The last thing he thought he would find at the Music Festival was an intimate encounter — during a live performance.
He saw her across the crowded park. The music festival was now in full swing with thousands spilling into neighboring streets. Seventies funk filled the air – the beat was intoxicating. The deep, smooth baritone Voice had the whole crowd dancing, as men dreamed of their lost youth and women licked their lips, fantasizing about his obvious king-sized package.
She was sitting on a boulder, leaning back against a tree, a little to the left of the stage. Landscaping surrounding the “Welcome …” sign created the secluded little cul-de-sac in which she sat. Utility boxes finished barricading the area from ready access and view. He was surprised other revelers had not found this mini paradise, then wondered how long this Beauty had occupied her slice of perfect seclusion. As other festival goers delighted in the music, she alone appeared unphased.
From his vantage point overlooking the vast crowd, He could clearly see her lovely pale features. Her silvering hair, deep blue eyes, soft luminous skin and full, rounded breasts. What thrilled him most was that she was not a child of 20 or even 30. If he was to guess, he would place her maturity at well past 50, but where he had no idea. She was simply timeless. He did not understand how some women could pull that off. Sitting in green bell-bottom pants, black sandals, black silk tank, long multicolor silk scarf and contrasting green sweater, she could have easily been posing for a photo shoot. Instead, she looked – bored.
As the set continued, he found it harder to concentrate. She reached – to nothing. Ooh, she occasionally responded with polite applause but no indication that the music touched her in any way. Perhaps she had intended to meet another and had been stood up. The sudden thought of anyone not keeping a date with this woman was unthinkable. What kind of man would ever pass up an opportunity to spend even a moment in her company.
He began to fantasize about how he would spend his time with her. It would start with his declaration of undying love and devotion as he ravenously captured her mouth with his own. He could taste her sweet tongue as their two darted, danced, and bit – first in her mouth, then in his. His hands exploring her large, heavy breasts. Nipples begging for firm, aggressive introductory treatment as he pinched and twisted much harder than he dared with a younger, less experienced – and less enticing woman. He wondered how much they would be able to explore as their passions exploded.
So lost in his fantasy about her seduction that he almost missed the instrumental queue for the next set. To his amazement, she was suddenly focused The Voice with fierce intent. He could clearly see that every fiber of her being was living within the lyrics of that song.
The deep baritone filled the air as her soul ignited. It seemed as though there was a private performance for which no one else was aware. Only The Voice and Beauty. The dance of voice and lyrics filled the small cul-de-sac she occupied. While she had not moved from her seated position, he could see a decided change in her – posture. Relaxed, lounging – legs stretched out in front of her body – crossed at the ankle.
As The Voice continues to ply his magic, Beauty’s hand slipped down the side of her pants, barely viable – moving with deliberate, synchronized gestures at her crotch. Her head tilted back to rest against the tree. She was obvious to any of thousands of other festivalgoers from that moment onward. Each refrain brought an obvious build toward climax that became more intense. He found it almost impossible to keep going – wanting to cry out and join her in her moment of impending ecstasy. Only a will of iron kept him welded to his spot – focused on the job before him.
“I don’t need no money, fortune, or fame,” he saw her hand freeze. “I’ve got all the riches baby one man can claim… “ Beauty’s eyes locked in his. Fat tears welled in her eyes. The Voice sang only to her, “….What can make me feel this way….” He couldn’t tell if she froze because she was cumming or because she could no longer continue. Tears steamed down her face in rivers, with no attempts made to wipe them away or stop them. Their eye contact was unbroken. The last lyric approched and the audience erupted.
As The Voice acknowledged their appreciation and he looked away, Beauty quietly slipped into the crowd and into oblivion.
