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Last weekend, my boyfriend, Cliff, and I went to a concert in the park. It was in the early evening, just as the sky was turning a royal blue. Thousands of people spread out over the park area in front of the band shell, where the orchestra was tuning up, many having arrived much earlier in the afternoon.

Picnics were scattered here and there. Cliff picked out a place off to the side under an oak, and we spread a blanket and opened our wine and munchies. As night descended, the orchestra played, and the air grew chillier. We wrapped a second blanket around us, lay back and continued listening to the concert.

At first I barely noticed it: Cliff’s hand on my thigh. Gently he caressed me, stroking my leg. It felt warm and pleasurable. Gradually my boyfriend’s hand slipped between my legs. He cupped my mound. I was startled at first, then aroused. I glanced around at the thousands of people scattered about us. Their attention was on the shell from which the music emanated.

Underneath the blanket, Cliff unsnapped my bra and pushed it, and my blouse, up under my chin. His fingertips grazed the sensitive flesh, especially around my pebbly areolas. He took a long nipple between the middle finger and thumb of each hand and twirled them until I moaned.

“What are you doing?” I whispered to him under the music.

He gave me a lopsided grin. “Take a wild guess,” he replied.

“Shh,” somebody whispered. The last piece on the program, the 1812 Overture, was beginning as Cliff unsnapped my jeans. He pulled them down until they were in a pile at my feet.

There I was, practically naked in a crowd of thousands. Strangely, it was very erotic. All sorts of lascivious images flitted through my mind as my boyfriend rubbed my knees and legs, then moved higher to my thighs and crotch.

Cliff has very long (and knowledgeable!) fingers, and he used them to stroke my slit. I could feel my naughty little pussy dampen at his touch and contract with delight.

My breathing quickened. Luckily the music was loud enough that no one heard us; no one seemed to notice how I was being fondled and aroused. My pussy was dripping.

Cliff unzipped his pants, and out flopped his cock. Did I say “flopped"? I should have said “bounced.” It was already extremely stiff and hot to my touch.

I put my hand to my honeypot and extracted some of its delicious, nasty nectar. I coated Cliff’s rod. He was all slippery as I masturbated him, in time to the music, with slow, sensual strokes. His shaft throbbed and twitched in my hand, causing me to giggle.

“Roll over on your side,” he whispered.

I turned my back to my boyfriend and snuggled closer to him, spoon fashion. From behind, Cliff fondled my ass, his fingers probing my pussy. He found my joy button and rubbed it until I was sobbing quietly and shaking with lust.

I lifted my leg a moment later, and my boyfriend’s big prick slipped between my slippery thighs. I guided it to the mouth of my pussy, which eagerly swallowed the knobby head.

Taking me by the hips, Cliff shoved his cock home, pulling a gasp from my throat. I love it from behind, and Cliff soon had my bottom bouncing. He took hold of my aching titties and rubbed them while he fucked me.

He drove into me relentlessly. My pussy made little slurping sounds as he penetrated and withdrew. I pushed my ass up and wiggled it. Cliff inhaled sharply. He had a great angle now; the head of his prick pressed against the furthest reaches of my sopping hole.

I mewed like a little kitten. I was quivering and trembling. I could feel Cliff’s balls, nestling in the crack of my ass, start to rumble.

My orgasm mounted steadily. I was shivering with lust and whimpering. My climax burst and vibrated through me. Cliff’s cock, buried in my hole, jerked and exploded with its creamy load, coating the walls of my honeypot. I sobbed, twitched and gave a short scream. Luckily the climax of the overture occurred at the same time mine did, so no one heard my sounds of pleasure. Cliff and I put ourselves back together during the encore.

It was one of the best concerts in the park I ever went to. There’s another one next week, Cliff tells me. Maybe you’ll see us there. We’ll be the ones under the shaking blanket!

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Coming In Concert

Last weekend, my boyfriend, Cliff, and I went to a concert in the park. It was in the early evening, just as the sky was turning a royal blue. Thousands of people spread out over the park area in front of the band shell, where the orchestra was tuning up, many having arrived much earlier in the afternoon.

Picnics were scattered here and there. Cliff picked out a place off to the side under an oak, and we spread a blanket and opened our wine and munchies. As night descended, the orchestra played, and the air grew chillier. We wrapped a second blanket around us, lay back and continued listening to the concert.

At first I barely noticed it: Cliff’s hand on my thigh. Gently he caressed me, stroking my leg. It felt warm and pleasurable. Gradually my boyfriend’s hand slipped between my legs. He cupped my mound. I was startled at first, then aroused. I glanced around at the thousands of people scattered about us. Their attention was on the shell from which the music emanated.

Underneath the blanket, Cliff unsnapped my bra and pushed it, and my blouse, up under my chin. His fingertips grazed the sensitive flesh, especially around my pebbly areolas. He took a long nipple between the middle finger and thumb of each hand and twirled them until I moaned.

“What are you doing?” I whispered to him under the music.

He gave me a lopsided grin. “Take a wild guess,” he replied.

“Shh,” somebody whispered. The last piece on the program, the 1812 Overture, was beginning as Cliff unsnapped my jeans. He pulled them down until they were in a pile at my feet.

There I was, practically naked in a crowd of thousands. Strangely, it was very erotic. All sorts of lascivious images flitted through my mind as my boyfriend rubbed my knees and legs, then moved higher to my thighs and crotch.

Cliff has very long (and knowledgeable!) fingers, and he used them to stroke my slit. I could feel my naughty little pussy dampen at his touch and contract with delight.

My breathing quickened. Luckily the music was loud enough that no one heard us; no one seemed to notice how I was being fondled and aroused. My pussy was dripping.

Cliff unzipped his pants, and out flopped his cock. Did I say “flopped"? I should have said “bounced.” It was already extremely stiff and hot to my touch.

I put my hand to my honeypot and extracted some of its delicious, nasty nectar. I coated Cliff’s rod. He was all slippery as I masturbated him, in time to the music, with slow, sensual strokes. His shaft throbbed and twitched in my hand, causing me to giggle.

“Roll over on your side,” he whispered.

I turned my back to my boyfriend and snuggled closer to him, spoon fashion. From behind, Cliff fondled my ass, his fingers probing my pussy. He found my joy button and rubbed it until I was sobbing quietly and shaking with lust.

I lifted my leg a moment later, and my boyfriend’s big prick slipped between my slippery thighs. I guided it to the mouth of my pussy, which eagerly swallowed the knobby head.

Taking me by the hips, Cliff shoved his cock home, pulling a gasp from my throat. I love it from behind, and Cliff soon had my bottom bouncing. He took hold of my aching titties and rubbed them while he fucked me.

He drove into me relentlessly. My pussy made little slurping sounds as he penetrated and withdrew. I pushed my ass up and wiggled it. Cliff inhaled sharply. He had a great angle now; the head of his prick pressed against the furthest reaches of my sopping hole.

I mewed like a little kitten. I was quivering and trembling. I could feel Cliff’s balls, nestling in the crack of my ass, start to rumble.

My orgasm mounted steadily. I was shivering with lust and whimpering. My climax burst and vibrated through me. Cliff’s cock, buried in my hole, jerked and exploded with its creamy load, coating the walls of my honeypot. I sobbed, twitched and gave a short scream. Luckily the climax of the overture occurred at the same time mine did, so no one heard my sounds of pleasure. Cliff and I put ourselves back together during the encore.

It was one of the best concerts in the park I ever went to. There’s another one next week, Cliff tells me. Maybe you’ll see us there. We’ll be the ones under the shaking blanket!

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