Unfathomable

The ticket he left for me was for one of the private boxes high up above and at the corner of the stage. It was angled, so that no one from the audience could look into the box, and only singers positioned well up into the height of the set could see much of anything in the shadows.

I was the only one in the box until shortly after the first interval. In the interval, I had craned my head out around the edge of the box and scanned the audience and seen that, yes, both Raul and the older man were seated in the orchestra section. Raul looked magnificent in his tuxedo. That must have cost the older man a fortune. And the older man was probably paying for all of these empty seats in this box as well—and perhaps didn’t even like opera. Raul had his hooks into that man really good. He should be grateful that I intended to take Raul away from him.

After the lights went down following the interval, I felt more than heard that someone had entered the box. I turned my face and saw that it, indeed, was Raul.

There were practically no preliminaries. I heard the zipper of his tux trousers being lowered after he’d sat in the chair beside me and felt the hand on the back of my neck, coaxing my face down into his lap. And to the glorious live, opera music of Mozart, sung rather well for the provinces, I gave Raul the best blow job performance I could muster up—luxuriating in my tongue’s play with his cock ring.

He stopped me short of making him come, though, and I watched in fascination as he took a condom packet and a tube of lubricant out of his jacket pocket. He leaned over and whispered in my ear, “Strip off your trousers and briefs, please, and sit on my cock. Oh, and you look quite handsome tonight.”