Canon in D on Wednesday's Set

Canon in D on Wednesday's Set.

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### My contribution to both the "Karaoke 2023" Author Challenge and the Halloween Story Contest 2023.

The whole thing is pure fantasy, with no relation to people or events in real life.

English is not my mother tongue, so please forgive my mistakes. ###

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Chapter 1: Introduction (yes, this was precisely from the verb introduce).

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"Ah! Yes, THING, like this! Push your thumb near my clit, this way! Rub that finger in the anus, come on! More, more! Oh, yes, yes, THING... oh, T., you are my best friend, I adore you, you're the best... You're the best THING that ever happened to me in a lifetime!"

With my heart beating so fast, I desired to shout out loud all these words to the THING that was fingering me.

But I was in the midst of many people on a TV set and caught on professional cameras.

While he continued to masturbate me, I gritted my teeth and kept playing the cello, sweating and blushing.

The orgasm was approaching.

And I was almost there (yes, in addition to classical music, I also play soundtracks from animated movies).

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Chapter 2. Getting bored on the set.

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Often, the fans of movie or TV sagas live under the illusion that acting is nonstop fun.

Unfortunately, it is not.

My name is Imma, although everyone calls me Emma: the full name would be Immaculada Sanchez-Roledo. My jobs on set are many: I work as a Stand-in, a stuntwoman, a Double: with a precious specialization in classical music... a rather rare skill, I must admit. Often on stage, I stand in for the talented actress Jenna Ortega when she plays the character of Wednesday Addams in a very successful planetary television series.

This sentence would sound exciting... but it is not. Life on set is very boring, and often actors have to stand still for hours watching someone adjust lights or move mirrors to change shadows. Whole hours.

Some, in the past, used to kill time by basting flirtations between people in show business: producers, directors, actresses, make-up artists. But after the metoo, everyone is afraid of everything, and no one wants to kiss anyone.

I'm in my 20s and I feel very lonely and very bored.

The only good thing here is THING. Yes, the animated hand. Everyone thinks it's made with CGI, but instead, it's an actor.

It happened on Halloween night. We were supposed to shoot a night scene (you all know which one: no spoiler). For me, it was one of the first scenes on the first day of shooting. Next to me was this inert hand, standing still. It was raining slowly: not enough to urge the Director to call a Pause.

Suddenly a flash of lightning lit up the set. I closed my eyes and when I opened them again, THING was walking toward me, hopping on five fingers (even his thumb!).

I with eyes wide open said, "But... you are alive!"

With a vertical finger on my lips, THING asked me to be quiet.

I was very much in need of a friend, and I decided to put aside my fears and shyness. Thus began a great friendship between THING and me.

We became great friends.

We played chess or cards. THING was very skilled at chess, and I'm sure he sometimes let me win on purpose, to boost my self-esteem.

Once I jokingly asked him, "How old are you, THING?" and he held up three fingers, as in a Tarantino movie, with thumb and little finger bent. "Are you THREE years old?"

He said no, shaking his index finger. Then he pointed upward: higher.

"Ah, you are thirty years old, it's ok. Well, we can be friends anyway, even if you ..."

But he kept pointing upward vigorously, with the open palm.

"WHAT!? Three hundred years old!? Gosh, YOU ARE THREE HUNDRED YEARS OLD!? Oh, well, you know what they say, among friends, age is just a number..."

I finally had a FRIEND. Not a makeup artist, a hair stylist, a costume designer, or a colleague. That is: a person paid to pretend to be nice, but who as soon as you turn your back speaks ill of you and your thoughts, and reports everything you say to some other gossip queen.

THING was mine alone. The others didn't realize he was an actor. I was ... overjoyed.

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One afternoon we were supposed to film the scene where the whole school band played instruments in front of the mayor and the townspeople. For some reason, the director wanted us to film the whole scene, perhaps to teach some of the apprentices some avant-garde methods... all nonsense, so much so that in the projection we would see only a few close-ups and some shots taken with stand-ins.

But that day my stand-in had been sick: too much pumpkin pie.

The costume designers make me wear the costume. The stylist fixes my hair. They gave me my cello and a sheet of music: Pachelbel's Canon in D.

"Hey, THING, this piece is so easy (and boring), you could play it too! What are you saying? Has it always been your dream, to play the cello in front of an audience? Oh ... let me think ... maybe we can do it. If you learn this sequence of only eight notes ... and repeat it 54 times ... I can move the bow with my other hand, and you'll be the star of the concert! What do you say?"

With his fingers, he composed the gesture one makes at rock concerts, "I LOVE U."

"I love you to, THING."

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THING was phenomenal at the cello. And the Canon is very repetitious.

It just needs a repetitive pattern: seeing THING move his fingers on the violin neck was funny! My bow rubbed the strings as he memorized the positions on the keys.

There were only eight notes to be repeated about fifty times: D major (tonic), A major (dominant) B minor (submediant), F# minor (mediant), G major (subdominant), again a D major (tonic), again a G major (subdominant), and again an A major (dominant).

Enthusiastically opening all the fingers, THING pointed out to me that there were only five notes: because three notes are repeated twice (D, A and G). Usually, it was boring: but together with THING, it was exalting. After a few minutes, he had learned everything.

We were both ready to perform.

THING was ready to secretly perform in public.

I was ready to perform a public but secret orgasm.

Before we started, I took an anal plug from my purse and smeared it with lube. Then I stuck it into my rosebud. Tightening the anal muscles, I was sure it would not slip out, and then I already knew that during the concert I would be sitting the whole time.

The plug increased the sensations each time I masturbated, and from the past few months by now I was so used to it that I felt naked without it.

We went to the set together (he hiding in a big pocket of my stage costume). THING would fulfill his dream of playing in front of so many people, and I would fulfill my fantasy of masturbating in public.

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The conductor gives the signal: let's go. I hate the Canon in D... for a cellist, it's the apotheosis of boredom, the apex of dumb slumber.

And when I get so bored, there's only one solution to completely relax... Yes, that's it: masturbate.

I'm fucking 20 years old.

"Hey THING, you go ahead, I'll masturbate in the meantime."

My fingers closed like an Italian asking what I was saying. "Go back on the keys!"

According to the costume designer, Wednesday's character never wore panties. I believe it was a kind of superstition, to imitate the famous costume worn by Carrie Fischer in "Star Wars" (you know, no, it was probably the most popular sexy Halloween costume in the late 20th century).

I also had no problem filming almost naked, or wearing only colored paint. Therefore, the idea of walking around the set without any underwear underneath made me smile. I hadn't yet realized that it would be very helpful to enjoy the situation better: the elastic of the panties is sometimes a torment and distracts you just as you're concentrating on building the orgasm.

The arousal of the mere idea, of masturbate in public, was thrilling. Besides, no one can see me: I was wearing Wednesday's costume, which is very opaque, and there's a huge cello in front of me! It's the perfect situation. It was a dream come true after years of suppressed desire.

I was already all wet... gosh it's slippery down there... pinky finger bent close to the clitoris, and two fingers inside... "OMG, I'm almost there..."

But what's going on? Why is the mayor getting up?

Scene shot. In the proper sense of the word: the scene has taken a hit. It must be some cutting-edge directorial technique: leaving the actors uninformed so our reactions are more spontaneous. Bullshit. We're all professionals, who do they think they're surprising us?

Now a random Extra put down another musical Score in front of me. Yikes! It's Ravel's "Bolero"! I can play it because the cello part is easy, but THING is not prepared!

"THING do you feel up to playing this too?"

THING solemnly showed me his middle finger: perhaps he was offended somehow.

"Okay, don't get hot: what long fingers you have! Let's do this: I play, and you hide, that in this scene you shouldn't be present ... hide between my knees and the cello."

As an orchestra, we started playing. You know, Ravel's "Bolero" is that famous music that starts slowly and ends frantically.

Dear readers: did I tell you that THING is a male? Or maybe it was intuitive from the shape of his knuckles and nails: I don't know.

I told him to look for a hiding place. Not to slip inside MY hiding place!

But, you know how males... humans, or non-humans, they always desire to explore!

As I played the first notes, THING slipped his index finger inside my wet pussy. "Hey! What are you doing down there!" I wanted to shout, but instead, I whispered to him, so as not to be heard.

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Chapter 3. Twist and Surprise: from Eight Notes, to Octopus.

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I kept playing without missing a single note: I was like hypnotized.

THING kept moving his thumb in wide circles around my clitoris, never pressing it directly. The third and fourth fingers were firmly embedded in my soaked pussy, and I felt them arching like a hook. Maybe THING could have lifted my weight!

Now my bottom cheeks were no longer touching the wooden seat, because I had risen a little on my thighs. THING moved Index and Little finger... I could feel them fumbling around the base of the anal plug. I thought, terrified, "No! If it slips and falls on the floor, other people will see them! It will be caught on film! I will be fired!"

But the fingers, which before were wide and hard, became thinner and thinner and more pliant. But what's going on? They were long, very long-they looked like two tentacles of an octopus. Even the thumb was like a tentacle with suckers: a sucker had come close to my clit and was sucking it making a vacuum around it.

Pop! The anal plug had slipped out. "No, THING, please don't go in..."

Too late. The index finger was all stuck inside my highly lubed asshole. It had regained the texture of a finger: knuckles, and bones. I could feel it perfectly because THING was rubbing my flesh between his index and middle fingers, knuckle against the knuckle.

My perineum was on fire. Glowing lava.

Usually, when I masturbate, I stroke a nipple. It's silly, I know, but I missed it.

The tentacle in my anus was changing shape. It was getting harder and harder and the knuckles were getting thicker. Like the shape of Dumbledore's Elder Wand (could that be a sex toy? Imagine an auntie "here your gift, dear nephew, is a Magic Wand...").

The middle finger was also changing shape. It was getting wider and wider. I have heard of girls gigglingly telling about boyfriends with long dicks. But when I masturbate, the most important thing is girth. I need to feel my flesh dilate as if I were giving birth to a newborn baby. I know it's not the same thing, but I need to feel volume! Some of my friends masturbate with a pencil or pen, I need a tube of Pringles for the moment.

THING knew what he was doing. The finger in the pussy was getting wider, and harder. It was not smooth: it was like the big cock of Badass Dragon, with raised scales.

I was all soaked and I remember thinking, "Stay still, THING, I will move myself, just stay still...." Instead, he started rubbing the two poles: the one shaped like many consecutive spheres and the one with the raised scales.

I gritted my teeth. I didn't want the musicians around me to hear my moans: they would reveal how much I was enjoying it. My forehead was all sweaty, and I was playing the cello with all the energy of a girl about to have a magical orgasm... although I don't understand how I was keeping the notes straight because my mind was completely blank.

Or maybe that's the trick? If you have an absent mind do you play better?

THING wrapped a thin tentacle wrapped around my right tit, bare under the dress. The costume designer had insisted that I wear nothing underneath because it was part of the acting method and so on. This tentacle was different from the others: it resembled a long tongue, like that of a Chameleon, or a Giraffe. Gosh! A tongue licking my pleasure nipple... I thought I was going to faint (but instead, I kept playing my cello).

Before that day, I had masturbated hundreds of times in my life. And I had had lovers who masturbated my pussy with their hands. Sometimes it was a guy with hasty, inexperienced hands, who didn't know where to touch, who just had an urgency to get rid of "duty" before he could penetrate me and spurt his mess as soon as possible. Each guy I was with was only ever thinking about his sperm. Sometimes, it was a girl, who masturbated my pussy, with her delicate, experienced, and knowledgeable hands. But even on those occasions, the girl had her own expectations: she would touch me, but she wanted me to touch her. All natural, all inevitable, and yet, to me, it was distracting.

Now, THING was like a dream. He didn't want anything in return. I was not supposed to reciprocate. Never Reciprocate.

He was playing my body like a musical instrument: the harmony of the movements of the five fingers (now five tentacles!) was like a melody, complex and persuasive.

The tentacle in my anus was like a double bass or a cello: tenacious, continuous, ostinato, giving rhythm to all the other movements. It might have seemed almost motionless, like the chord progression of Pachelbel's "Canon," or the "Bolero." But instead, it kept moving slowly up and down. It penetrated no further: it moved forward and backward, like a turn of notes.

In the pussy, one tentacle was as rigid as a marble column, and it was rhythmically strumming. It was like the drums of a rock band: rhythmic strokes, rubbing my flesh beyond the perineum. They were always perfectly synchronized with the double bass in the rectum.

The other tentacle was like the bow of the violin: it plucked a single note here and there, like a guitarist focused on the Solo.

The thumb gently probing the flesh around the clitoris was like the pianist running his fingers across the keyboard. At times slow and solemn, at other times rapid like a jazz pianist. Sometimes, one key at a time, at other times, dozens of keys are pressed in seconds.

The little finger, transmuted into a long tentacle-like a giraffe's tongue, was focused on teasing my nipple. It was the solo voice: it rarely intervened, but it was so delicate and precise in its rapid lashes that I thought I would lose consciousness in a very long "petite morte."

Continuing to rub the tentacle in the Pussy against the tentacle in my Asshole, THING wrapped the tongue and sucked my nipple with his shapeshifted pinky finger. The squeeze made my brain melt: I still had muscle and bone to play cello, but inside, my body was just a single puddle of warm jelly. I don't remember what happened next. The nipple is my berserker button: as soon as someone touches it my orgasm takes off like an airplane taking off over the airstrip, relentless.

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Chapter 4. Conclusion.

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I have no idea how I did it, but I played the "Bolero" perfectly. I didn't miss a single note. And my body was as taut as a violin string, nervous and focused.

The director and colleagues complimented me: they all said I had played as if in a trance as if I were hypnotized, and this is perfect for imitating our character's abnormal behavior. Now they'll shoot some close-ups of Jenna Ortega, with fake sweat and a hand-playing cello framed close-up, but my mesmerized posture will remain on the movie.

Result: best stand-in nomination for every award imaginable. New job offers, and even invitations to play classical music in auditoriums!

And all thanks to my friend THING and his magnificent magical 5 fingers!

How can I say it? "Why thank you, Thing".

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My contribution to both the "Karaoke 2023" Author Challenge and the Halloween Story Contest 2023. I hope I have not frightened anyone! The whole thing is pure fantasy, with no relation to people or events in real life. I do not know if there exist some doubles or stuntwomen for the talented Jenna Ortega, but I exclude that THING can masturbate a girl in front of the cameras (although he may have affectionate friendships).

Do not try to imitate characters! They act in the tale as professionals (is a hazardous activity, don't do it at home).

As you may have noticed somehow, English is not my mother tongue, so please forgive the mistakes. ##############