Blossom Goes to the Opera

My name is Francis and I teach ballroom dancing. I teach only adults. Although I've taught mostly in Boston, my story location is important. Much of this story is based on my actual experience as an instructor.

A month after I began my ballroom dancing career, Blossom enrolled in dance lessons. Her program was open ended. You might call it a 'life time' program, because her enrollment contract specified TBD as the end date. Not only was she very cheery, she was beautiful. A brunette, 5' 5" tall, Blossom had solid muscular thighs, and a big ass. For years she'd been at the gym doing squats. Blossom took private lessons in the afternoon, which meant we had the ballroom to ourselves. She followed me around the ballroom like a puppy, whether I was setting up music on the CD player or tying my shoes. Blossom was right behind me. She was always hyperventilating for some reason, which I later learned was constant arousal. In plain English, she was horny.

You may ask yourself, why do women take dance lessons. Obviously they don't get much attention from their husbands. I felt my students were getting a good deal; they got therapy and learned to dance for the same price. The therapy was essentially related to sexual dysfunction, so I considered myself more of a sex therapist than a dance instructor.

We had mirrors on three walls in the ballroom. If I lifted Blossom's skirt over her thighs I could see her ass cheeks in the mirror. She did not wear panty hose, and had a plump bottom. As we got to know each other, Blossom allowed me complete freedom, to massage her ass, play with her hair, or rub her lower back to help her relax. It became obvious to me that Blossom was on uppers. She was cheery all the time. Nobody is happy all the time.

Blossom was my student for three years. As I became bolder, I unbuttoned her blouse, toyed with her boobs, stuck my hand into her panties, and ran my fingers through her pubic bush. She never complained and never missed a lesson.

It was obvious she was married because she took lessons only in the afternoons. She mentioned her husband briefly one time, and I was curious about her sex life.

"Blossom, what does your husband do?"

"He has his own business", she replied quietly. "He sells insurance. And he's a sex maniac..."

Her comment took me by surprise. "A sex maniac? You have a lot of sex?"

"We have too much sex. He wants it all the time ..."

"How often do you have sex?"

"Once a month."

"Well, that hardly makes him a sex maniac, Blossom."

No response. She looked down at her dance shoes.

One day, after she'd been taking lessons for a year, she asked me to go to the opera with her. Rigoletto was playing and Blossom had season's tickets. Her niece, Heidi, was visiting from New York and had never been to an opera. Heidi was studying voice and hoped to be able to sing the part of Gilda, Rigoletto's daughter. Heidi was busty, so I assumed she had good lungs. I agreed to go with her and Heidi.

For an evening performance. Blossom wore a loose, knee length wrap skirt, which I thought was odd. I had worn a tux. Other women were wearing long gowns, in typical opera fashion. Her niece, Heidi, was wearing a dark, wool skirt and a loose fitting orlon sweater.

When we were seated in the second balcony, I was sitting between them. Blossom was on my left. The house lights were dimmed, and Blossom immediately pulled her panty hose off. "It's too hot for these," she said. Blossom leaned back and spread her legs. She pulled her skirt half way up her thighs. I got the hint.

She had been talking about the opera from the time I picked her up. Rigoletto is a very sad opera, with Rigoletto's daughter, Gilda, dying in the end. But as soon as we sat down in our seats her mind left the opera.

"Francis, pay attention to me," she said. "The screen has the English translation." There was a huge display screen over the stage. "Heidi will look after herself."

She took my left hand and placed it on her thigh. Her skin was soft, but firm, and smelled of aloe skin cream. Moving my hand slowly up her leg, she whispered, "Higher ..."

Clearly, Blossom was horny and didn't give a damn about what was happening to Gilda on stage . I felt Blossom's hand on my thigh. Her eyes were shut, and she murmured "I love Rigoletto." Her hand was creeping higher. My cock, like snake, was coming alive. Her touch was very light, and it was driving me crazy.

I've been wanting to see Blossom's pussy for a long time. As I slid my hand higher, I could feel the heat emanating from her crotch. There was some leaking. She was wearing thin cotton panties. I had reached her panties and pulled the gusset apart, which gave me full access to her slippery pussy lips. I toyed with her labia, using two fingers, and easily found her clit. It was a bigger lump than I expected. I rolled it between my two fingers. Blossom shuddered, and let out a low prolonged, "ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh ..."

Heidi pretended not to hear anything.

We were still in the first act. In the opera, Gilda is a naïve young woman looking for love. Her arias are passionate, as well as loud. Blossom had hold of my forearm, and kept the pressure on her clit. Her orgasm lasted for a full minute but it seemed longer. Her thigh muscles were locked tight, but now my hand was wet. Blossom's moans were not disturbing our neighbors yet but Heidi had suddenly taken an interest in Blossom's lower body. She could see Blossom's naked thighs as high as her hairy pussy.

"Let me rest, Francis," Blossom murmured. "Give me a minute."

Her fingers were working into my fly. Fumbling a few seconds, the buttons popped open, and my stiff cock popped out. The tip was emerging from its foreskin, and Blossom stared at it. She had never seen a cock with foreskin. She rolled the thick foreskin tentatively up and down, causing a lot of precum to dribble out the top. Heidi just stared at it. Blossom became more fascinated as she began massaging my cock, causing more leakage. Heidi leaned in closer, and in spite of the low light, she was wide eyed, watching Blossom's hand moving up and down.

I happened to glance over at Heidi, who was licking her lips. She had pulled her skirt up. Heidi had lovely legs, her calves were well developed from ballet.

Blossom was now furiously pumping my cock and I was close to shooting. Luckily the music was loud. The elderly lady sitting in front of us was within range, so I whispered, "Blossom, stop. I can't hold back much longer ..."

Blossom believed in finishing what you start; she increased her speed. Suddenly I spurted a load across the aisle and hit the back of the old lady's head. Luckily she was wearing a wig. Blossom keep pumping me and my cock was still hard. She had a crazed look in her eyes. She squeezed out the last trickle.

"Can I hold it?" Heidi meekly asked. "I've never held a guy's thing before. It's pretty big ..."

I nodded. Heidi grasped my cock in both hands. She began slowly milking it. Sliding the foreskin up and down. The woman sitting to Heidi's right suddenly became aware of what Heidi was doing. She leaned over to get a better look. I heard her gasp, "That's disgusting ..." but she didn't stop watching Heidi's hands.

Heidi ran her thumb and forefinger over the tip of my now semi erect cock. It would a while before I would cum again, but with the house lights still dim, she was applying herself. She was trying to conceal what she was doing. Heidi's neighbor, a single, well dressed woman murmured, "I haven't seen one of those in a while ..." Then she added, as an afterthought, "In fact, I've never seen one like that. So big and all that skin ..."

Heidi and the lady made eye contact. "I'd let you touch it, but I'd have to ask Francis first." Heidi said.

"My name is Loretta," the woman introduced herself. "I don't come to the opera much, but if I knew what goes on, I'd come more often ..." She handed Heidi her business card. "Call me. Maybe we can have lunch. I hope you like girls ..."

"I'm open to anything, Loretta. Especially beautiful women."

Heidi slowly lowered her head and took my cock in her mouth. "Tastes nice ..." she said. Loretta stared enviously, while Heidi began to give me a blow job.

Meanwhile, Blossom was primed for more action. Since I was preoccupied with Heidi, Blossom had been continually fingering herself. She was very wet; it sounded like someone walking through slush. She knew the opera Rigoletto well, knew there was an intermission at the end of Act 1. She increased her tempo and had to finish fast. Luckily she made it, jerking her clit, but released a lot of sticky fluid. The floor was a mess.

As the lights came on, an elderly usherette leaned over and whispered, "It looks like you spilled your drink. Let me get a mop ..."