Hoping for some backstage action after the show!
The Erotic Adventures of a String Quartet Groupie
She follows them around the city hoping for some backstage action after the show.
You want to fuck the DJ? He’s all yours. The only musicians that make me wet are the ones who wear black tuxes and carry bows.
If you play a string instrument for a small ensemble in the Boston area, I’ve either already fucked you or have you in my sights.
My latest obsession is the Newton String Quartet. I first became acquainted with them at a rich friend’s wedding, where their performance of Elgar’s Salute d’Amour had my loins aching so badly that I had to sneak off to the restroom to rub one out in the middle of the ceremony.
I desperately wanted to meet them after the reception, but I got too nervous. They were just so amazing that I didn’t know what I would say to them. I left the wedding feeling horny and mad at myself for chickening out.
I looked up their schedule and saw that their next event was an opening reception for a new exhibit at the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum. Tickets weren’t cheap, but I just had to see them.
And they didn’t disappoint. Ravel’s String Quartet in F Major never sounded better, and I’d never been so turned on at a museum. By then, I had gotten over my schoolgirl butterflies and was ready to throw myself at them. Unfortunately, the musicians slipped out a side entrance to avoid being mobbed by their many gushing fans.
Tonight, though, I will not be thwarted. I’m crashing a wedding at a fancy Beacon Hill hotel, and I’m wearing a skimpy black dress that clings sensually to my lean, CrossFit body. Trust me, nobody is looking at the bride — not even her groom.
“So, how do you know Ben and Rosalita?” asks a tall and generically handsome groomsman. His eyes are glued to my cleavage.
“I went to college with Rosalina,” I answer with my mouth full of baby quiche.
He’s blocking my view of the quartet.
“Oh, really? Pen State or Cornell?”
“Both.” I chug my drink.
“I’m Steve, by the way.”
“And I’m out of wine.”
“Let me get — ”
“Nah, I’m good.” I make a beeline towards the small, lonely stage in the corner.
As is often the case at weddings, the quartet’s talents are going completely unappreciated. But that just means I have them all to myself.
They’re playing Debussy’s Clair De Lune and it’s making me warm and gooey inside. It’s only a matter of time before the goo seeps out and soaks my panties.
I make eye contact with Peter, the chubby, balding first violinist. Some light internet stalking informed me that he’s a 52-year-old widower and father of teenage twin girls. I can’t be a mother to his daughters, but I can definitely put a smile on his face and make him forget his pain for a while.
When he catches me staring, he misses a note. It’s obvious that he’s not used to being gawked at like this.
Jim, the second violinist, is the youngest of the group. He’s a short, thin Asian guy about to start a PhD program in biology at Harvard. After I show him how easy it is for a musician to get pussy, he may change his mind about giving up music.
His eyes are closed in concentration, so he doesn’t even see me. He will soon.
Kathy, the viola player, is a thick black woman with huge melons that make my ample C-cups look like grapes. She’s in her early 30s and doesn’t have much of a social life. I’m 95 percent sure she’s bisexual, and if she isn’t yet, she will be once I get through with her.
Randy, the cellist, is surprisingly fit for a classical musician. His Instagram feed is mostly shirtless pictures of him at the tops of various mountains he’s climbed. He’s turning 27 next month — two days before I do. I can’t wait to give him an early birthday blowjob, which will also be a gift for me.
By the time Clair De Lune reaches its sweeping conclusion, I can barely contain myself.
“Bravo, guys,” I say. “That was beautiful.”
“Thank you,” Peter says. The others bow awkwardly.
“So do you guys take requests?” I ask with a naughty smile.
Peter dabs his damp forehead with a handkerchief. “Uh — ”
Just then, the DJ announces that it’s time for the cutting of the cake, and the guests start filing back into the main reception hall.
“Actually, we’re all done for the night,” Randy says. “Sorry.” The way he’s looking at me makes me wonder if he recognizes me from other gigs. Maybe my reputation as a “band slut” precedes me.
“Bummer,” I say. “Well, what are you guys up to now?”
“Um… we’re just going to pack up the van and go home,” Jim says.
“But the night is young. Come on, let’s hang out for a while.”
“Don’t you want to stay for the rest of the reception?” Kathy asks.
“Actually, I’m not really a guest at this wedding. I came here for you guys.”
Peter and Kathy look at each other.
“I don’t get it,” Peter says. “Are you with the company that hired us?”
“Nope. I’m just a really huge fan, and would love to party with you guys.”
“Party?” Jim asks, pushing his glasses back against his face.
I put my arm around him. “To me, you guys are rock stars. And what do rock stars do when an amorous fan shows up backstage after a show?”
As much as Jim is trying to ignore them, my tits are right in his face.
He clears his throat. “Sign autographs?”
I laugh. “You’re adorable, Jim. No, I’m not talking about signing autographs. I’m talking about the four of you bringing me back to your room and fucking me silly.”
“How did you know my name is — ”
Peter steps between his young colleague and me. “That’s very flattering, but we really should get going.”
“Oh, come on, Pete, what are you so afraid of?”
“Yeah, Peter,” Randy chimes in. “Let’s not be so hasty here. This nice lady — ”
“You can call me Britney,” I say.
“Britney here has gone through a lot of trouble to see us play. The least we can do is hang out with her for a while.”
“Seriously, Randy?” Peter says. “This doesn’t seem weird to you? She probably just wants to rob us.”
“Please. The only thing I want to steal is young Jimmy’s virginity.”
Jim clears his throat. “I’m not a — ”
“Don’t worry, Jimmy; I’ll teach you everything you need to know. Anyway, if I didn’t come here to fuck you guys, then why is my pussy so wet?” Here.” I take Jim’s hand and guide it up my dress and between my legs. “Feel that?”
He nods.
“Listen, you guys are so talented and sexy, and I truly think the five of us could make some beautiful music together. But if you’re not into it, I understand. You can’t blame a girl for trying, though, right?”
I walk towards the exit, sashaying my hips in a last-ditch effort to show them what they’ll be missing.
“Wait!” Randy says, chasing after me with his cello in hand. “Does it have to be all of us?”
I stop and let him catch up with me. With his sleeves rolled up, I can see his forearms ripple under the weight of his instrument. I can’t wait to see the instrument he’s hiding in his pants.
“No, I’ll take however many of you that want me.”
“Awesome. But we won’t be able to use our green room.”
“The single-stall restroom it is, then.”
I pull him into the nearest bathroom and lock the door behind us. After he props up his cello case in the corner, I attack him, pinning him against the wall and shoving my tongue down his throat.
He wraps his arms around me and pulls our bodies together. I can feel his cock growing through his slacks. He slips my dress over my head and slings it over the railing next to the toilet.
I’m not wearing a bra, so he goes right to work on my tits, kneading them with his big strong hands. I undo his bowtie with a single pull, then unbutton his shirt. He’s even more ripped in person than he appears in his most recent Insta photos.
I drop to my knees onto the cold tile floor, remove his belt, and pull down his pants and boxers. As soon as I get his stiff cock in my hands, there’s a knock at the door.
“Shit,” Randy whispers. “What do we do?”
“Occupied!” I yell while continuing to jerk him off.
There’s a brief silence before more knocking.
“It’s me, Peter. We um… if the offer still stands, the rest of us would like to join you guys.”
I look to Randy for confirmation, and he nods.
The room is meant for one person. Squeezing in five bodies, two violins, one viola, and a cello isn’t easy, but for me, the crowding is part of the thrill. Once everyone is naked, you can’t reach out in any direction without touching warm, damp flesh.
Our human engines quickly overpower the air conditioning as we grope and caress each other. At first, it’s chaos. This is the first orgy for all four of these master musicians.
But all they need is a good conductor.
“My god, I don’t think I’ve ever seen a dick so big,” I say as I rub Jim’s massive shaft across my nipples.
His nervous expression is replaced with a confident, yet humble grin.
Kathy also sheds her shyness once things get going. My hypothesis about her bisexuality is confirmed when I see she’s equally skilled in handling both dicks and pussies.
Peter is the most hesitant. When his cock doesn’t get hard in my mouth, I worry he might be feeling guilty about his deceased wife. But then Kathy takes over, and his modest dick springs to life.
We soon find our rhythm. In my head, I hear Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake as our fucking becomes a beautifully-choreographed ballet. My favorite configuration has Kathy on her back with me sitting on her face while Peter fucks her pussy, and I jerk Jim off and blow Randy.
Randy hasn’t taken his hands off my tits since we started, and I can tell by his wide grip that he plays piano as well as he does the cello. His cock, while not huge, has a banana-like curve that tickles the roof of my mouth as I suck him.
Jim isn’t just big; he knows what he’s doing. Most guys his age would have blown their wad by now, yet he manages to keep things under control.
Peter keeps his focus on Kathy the entire time, and when the moment comes for him to burst, I climb off of her face so they can gaze into each other’s eyes.
For a brief moment, they’re the only two people in the room. As the dramatic tension builds, he increases both his tempo and forte. He fucks her harder and harder until the slapping of their skin sounds like castanets.
Finally, they cum — both at the same time. He fills her pussy up so much that it spills out onto the floor.
Afterwards, he collapses onto her fluffy chest. The two of them close their eyes and tune the rest of us out.
For the big finale, I bring Jim onto the ground and mount his cock while presenting my asshole to Randy. Luckily, we’re in a hotel that provides complementary lotions in their bathrooms, because it has been a while since I’ve been buttfucked.
He lubes me up and goes in slowly. I take a deep breath and relax, enjoying the sensation of being completely full.
Their chemistry as musicians transfers perfectly to sex, and they fuck me with both precision and passion. My pussy quivers in anticipation as I feel their cocks getting even harder.
Though it would have been amazing for all three of us to finish together, I beat them both to the punch.
I hear Beethoven’s Ode to Joy as my orgasm washes over me, transporting me to a world of pure pleasure. The tremors in my pussy set off their cocks like the cannons at the end of the War of 1812 Overture.
Once we’ve all recovered, I beg my four lovers for one final serenade. Randy takes out his cello and sit down on the toilet while the others twist to find space for their bodies and bows.
They play the Largo movement from Dvořák’s New World Symphony. It melts my heart and brings a tear to my eye, reminding me once again why classical musicians are the sexiest rock stars in the world.
I’m sure tonight’s DJ got laid too, but I doubt it was this moving or satisfying.
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Hoping for some backstage action after the show!
