Stacy and Harold at the Concert
By Ernest Winchester
Copyright 2011 by Ernest Winchester
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Stacy and Harold at the Concert
“So what are you saying, you’re going to ignore ninety-eight percent of my body and only play with the other two?” Stacy didn’t seem to like the latest idea that her husband was proposing.
“I guess that pretty well sums it up.”
“Won’t the rest of me get jealous?” She asked, sarcasm heavy in her voice.
“Only for a little while.”
Harold had presented the latest scenario of a sex game as they sat on the couch sipping glasses of wine. They took turns creating games to play. Sometimes it would be a total surprise, catching the other completely off guard; at other times they planned out the game together in advance to get the most out of it. This was one of those times.
“So when are we going to do it—and where?” Stacy stared seductively at him over the rim of her glass. She knew him well enough to assume it wouldn’t be in their bed. The better games usually occurred somewhere away from the bed, often out of the house. Their bed was rarely ignored, however. It was used several times a week for what they often referred to as ‘vanilla sex’, though it seldom was anything as mundane as the term implied. Their sex was always quite intense no matter when, where or how it occurred.
“Saturday afternoon.”
“Saturday afternoon we have the concert on the grass.” She reminded him, shaking her head. “I assured Mrs. Wilson that we’d be there.” She was referring to one of the town’s orchestra supporters and a fellow grade school teacher.
“I know.” It was Harold’s turn to stare seductively at his wife, a wicked smile turning the corners of his lips.
“Oh shit! You intend to play with my breasts in the middle of the afternoon crowd in the town park? And you think that alone will get me off?”
“Actually only your nipples.”
“And you really think you can give me an orgasm that way?”
“Well, I’ll have a little mechanical help.”
“And just what does that mean?” Stacy wondered, but was intrigued at the suggestion that they were about to do something radical. She liked radical when it came to sex.
Harold set his glass on the coffee table and went into the computer room, returning quickly with his briefcase. He set it on the floor and opened it, removing a black plastic sack. From the sack he removed a sealed in hard plastic container. It was clear and Stacy could easily see the toy within.
“Vibrating nipple clamps. Sounds like fun. But my god, the size of them. How in the world will I be able to have them on me and not show through whatever I’d be wearing?”
“You won’t wear a bra.”
“That’s a given, but they’ve got to be hidden with something.”
“You’ll wear my old college sweater. The damn thing’s even big on me.”
“Okay. Let me see.” Stacy took the package from Harold to get a closer look. “Batteries not included,” she read. “I don’t suppose you thought…”
Before she could finish her sentence, Harold dipped into his leather case again, pulling out a small, brown paper sack containing the necessary batteries. While Harold peeled open the battery package, Stacy did the same to the toy’s wrapper. Stringing out the wires that attached the bright red devices together, Stacy held the two parts that had the clamps attached up to her breasts. The wires dangled down to the controller that would hold the batteries. She squeezed the clamps, trying to judge how tight they would be on her nipples. “I’m afraid these are going to hurt, especially if I keep them on for two hours during the concert.”
“That’s why we need to experiment with them now. Take off you sweater and bra.”
Never one to disobey an order like that, Stacy pulled her snug fitting sweater over her head and shook out her curly dark brown hair. Doing that caused her breasts to wriggle wildly in the half-cup bra that she was so fond of wearing. She looked sideways to catch her husband staring at the soft jiggling flesh. “Never get tired of looking at them, do you?”
“Hell no!”
“When I’m eighty and they’re hanging down to my knees, do you think you’ll still be looking?”
“If I haven’t gone blind from staring at them by then.”
Stacy giggled and reached behind her to unhook the bra, removed it and draped it over his head, cupping his wavy red hair in the process. He pulled it off and brought it to his nose, sniffing it as he had done six years before, the first time he had removed her bra in her college dorm room. Their eyes locked in remembrance of that incident, each smiling broadly. Then he set it aside to concentrate on putting batteries in the controller.
With the batteries installed, Harold reached out and pinched her left nipple, causing it to harden quickly. With it formed and erect, he opened the clamp and gently eased it onto her flesh. Released, it immediately fell off.
“Okay, the thumbscrew adjusts the space, that determines how tight it holds.”
“Thumbscrew? Isn’t that a torture device?”
“Different kind. This will be exquisite torture I’m sure.” He turned the screw and tried again to fasten it to her nipple. This time it held, dangling from the erect nubbin. Her breasts were large and firm, so they stood out and easily held the clamp and its red plastic attachment, suspended in mid-air below the nipple. The clamp was chrome but the plastic vibrator it was fastened to was bright red, shaped like a small cock.
Stacy tried to adjust the other clamp, but found she couldn’t turn the screw.
“You’re turning it the wrong way. Also, you need to squeeze open the clamp to take the tension off the screw. It works like a clothespin.”
“You should have been a mechanical engineer instead of a high school social studies teacher.”
“And miss the opportunity to form young minds.”
They both laughed at that. Though they were young and idealistic, they knew what little impact they were having on their respective students.
Within moments the nipple clamps were attached and Stacy waited for Harold to use the controller. He pressed one of the buttons on the red battery container and the clamps sprung to life, buzzing loudly.
“Oh damn,” Stacy flinched.
“Feel good?”
“Yes, but I don’t think that it alone will give me an orgasm.” She closed her eyes and inhaled softly, obviously enjoying the sensation. “But it will get me ready for some other action to make me come.”
“But that’s not what I want it to do. It may take a while to bring you to one.”
“It’s also noisy. If anyone is sitting near us, they will hear it.” Her face continued its distortion, as the vibration remained steady.
“I’ll only use it when the music is loud enough to drown it out.”
Harold tried another button, the sound increased and Stacy let out a soft moan. Then one of the clamps slipped off.
“I don’t know about this.”
“We’ve got a few days before Saturday to work on it, but if you don’t want to do it, that’s okay, it’s up to you.”
“No, it’s your turn to create a game. What’s this third one?” Stacy picked up a small, red penis-shaped device attached to the controller with wires just as the clamps were. “Oh, look, it’s a little red cock. If we have a son, I bet he’ll look like this.”
“That’s a mini vibrator. You can use it most anywhere, though I can suggest one place special.”
They took the toy to bed and found many ways to use it, some of which made Stacy squeal in orgasmic delight.
By Saturday they had worked out the problems with the toy. By tying two scarves together, they formed a cross between a bra and a double hammock that held the nipple clamps against Stacy’s breasts and took the weight off her nipples. They found they could turn off the small red bullet and tuck it out of the way inside the waistband of Stacy’s pants. It proved too satisfying to remove so they were sure they wanted to keep it for future use. It drove Stacy crazy when it was pressed against her clitoris. Harold insisted that only the nipple clamps were to be used and that he was sure that he could make her come, having practiced with the controller to produce a variety of vibrations and pulses. The controller was rather versatile and he had worked out a pattern in secret that he was certain would surprise his wife on Saturday afternoon.
They took two folding chairs, placing them side-by-side part of the way up the curved hillside that formed a natural amphitheater above the area set aside for the orchestra. Their spot was in the shade of a tree so that the blanket they spread over their laps wasn’t too obvious. The controller was hidden under the oversized college sweater and after the blanket was in place across their laps, Stacy stealthily passed it to him. He tucked it between his legs to wait for the concert to begin.
“Oh good, you made it.”
Stacy looked up at the middle-aged woman addressing her. “Of course. I said we would. You’ve met my husband haven’t you?”
“Yes, good to see you again Harold.” She stuck out her hand and Harold was forced to remove his hand from under the blanket to shake hers, hoping that the controller wouldn’t fall from the area between his legs.
“How do you do Mrs. Wilson?”
“No, please, call me Mildred.”
“Mildred. Do they have a good concert planned for today?”
“Well, we always do.” Though she was little more than a fundraiser and booster, Mildred liked to think of herself as an integral part of the organization. “We have a little Mozart, some Bach and others, ending with one of my favorites, Ravel’s Bolero.”
“Oh yes, everyone loves that.”
“Except Ravel. Would you believe he didn’t like it? Called it trivial.”
“No?”
“True. Do you mind if I join you?” Mildred had her own blanket ready to spread out.
“Not at all.” Stacy turned to judge Harold’s reaction at the intrusion. His face remained stoic, showing no disappointment. She wondered if he intended to go through with the experiment with the older teacher at hand. Stacy tried shaking her head very slightly as if to tell him the test was off. She was disheartened when she saw the slightest devilish curl lift the corners of his lips. Making her face stern, she mouthed the word ‘no’ as Mildred was distracted, spreading out her blanket on the grass near Stacy’s chair. But still, Harold showed no indication that he would abort the undertaking.
With one last effort, Stacy turned to the older woman. “Will you be able to hear well from up here?”
“Oh, yes dear. My hearing is fine. I love to stay back and watch the reaction of the audience at our concerts. Isn’t it just the perfect day for it?” It was a gorgeous mid October day. The sky overhead was a brilliant clear blue with not a single cloud to cast a shadow across the open park. The air was crisp with just enough of a chill to warrant the blanket Harold and Stacy were under. The leaves of the tree overhead were bright with their fall coloring as was the foliage of the trees that formed a backdrop beyond the orchestra. Things couldn’t be better.
Resigned, Stacy sat back; wondering what the next two hours would be like. The devices at her nipples were too well affixed to reach in and unhook them in the presence of the others nearby; and others were nearby, settling in on blankets or folding chairs to enjoy the concert.
Strains of individual notes drifted up from the orchestra as the musicians tuned their instruments. Shortly, the conductor raised his arms and with a flourish, the music started and Stacy tried to guess when Harold would start applying the vibrations.
He did little during Mozart’s piece, teasing her with short, soft bursts of vibrations at the louder passages as he had promised. She felt he was only doing enough to remind her that he intended to use the toy whenever he was ready for the full performance. Through the next two movements, the same thing occurred. Short, low intensity spells of buzzing that were low enough in volume to be unheard even by her. But she certainly felt them, with sufficient stimulation to begin warming to the experience.
During the forth piece of music, the vibrations were replaced with pulses driving home the feeling in her hardening nipples. She looked down to the blanket to see if she could determine when he would use the controller, realizing he had developed considerable skill with it in the few days that he had been playing with it. But she could discern nothing in the movement of the blanket. Each jolt came as a tingling surprise.
Stacy pulled out the program that high school kids had been handing out at the entrance of the park when they had arrived. She noted, as Mildred had said, that Bolero was the last piece of music listed. She also recalled what that piece of music was like. It was sensuous, building to a crescendo at the end, much like a sexual encounter climaxing in orgasm. Had Harold known that when he planned this encounter? The closer the program came to its conclusion without the toy being used for more than a teasing reminder, the more Stacy became convinced that he had planned it that way all along.
Moderate applause rang out across the hillside as the second to the last movement ended. The conductor faced the audience, bowed and turned back to the musicians. As his arms lifted, two oboe players stood and began playing when signaled. Their music was so soft initially, that Stacy could barely hear them.
Apparently neither could a young girl behind Stacy when she heard the child complain to her mother. “Mommy, they’re not playing loud enough, I can’t hear them.”
“It’ll get louder, honey. Just listen.”
The percussion section accompanied the haunting strains of the oboes with muted drums and a rhythmic bass was plucked on the violins in unison with the drums. When the oboes finished, a single clarinet player stood and continued the refrain with the very slightest increase in volume. The bass continued to accompany the melody, growing only slightly louder, and louder still when a pair of French horns took over the refrain.
With the increase in volume that accompanied the larger horns, Stacy began receiving nudges of vibrations to match the thumping bass, which became louder as well. At first the vibrations were minor, simply teasing her nipples. But the steady repetition quickly made the feeling radiate beyond her nipples. They had been held hard by the clamps with no real chance of softening under their pressure and now the repetitive vibrations were having the effect that Harold had sought. The increased pleasure of the rhythmic action in her nipples spread outward and downward to begin warming her genitals.
Stacy closed her eyes to concentrate on the pleasurable feelings as the vibrations increased in intensity to match the growing volume of the music. Ever in sync with the beat of the music, the vibrations switched to pulses as Harold proved he was extremely in tune to the music and Stacy became all the more convinced that he had worked on this routine with the music. She vaguely wondered if he had a copy of it at home with which to practice.
She tried in vain to restrain her breathing as her body reacted to the combined assault of the toy and the steadily increasing volume of the throbbing music. Trombones joined the melody, adding a lower octave. It seemed to zero in on her body as Harold alternated between the pulses and the teasing vibrations, always in sync with the bass. The music gained in volume as more instruments were added to the mix and the toy’s emanations grew in strength as Harold increased the power with the controller.
No longer able to control her heavily increasing breathing, Stacy bit into her lower lip to forestall a moan that she knew was begging to get out. That too failed. She only hoped that it wasn’t loud enough to be overheard. She felt her body begin to stake in sync with the toy’s taunting torture and she knew that she was slowly wetting the crotch of her old dungarees.
Harold proved as adept with the controller as any of the musicians with their instruments, playing her body with it as she was becoming one with the heavy beating bass. With the volume from below the hill becoming a steadily increasing swell of music, Stacy slowly surrendered to the effects, no longer able to resist. She leaned over to place her head on Harold’s shoulder, hoping to hide her face from anyone around them.
As the music neared its climax, all the instruments joined in with full strength. The kettledrum, aided by the smaller drums, threw out a concussion that reverberated across the hill, vibrating the blanket over Stacy’s lap, penetrating the very core of her body, turning it into a sounding board. It seemed to funnel into her genitals, causing her labia and clitoris to pulse, reinforced by the nipple clamps’ action, to produce what Harold was certain it would. Her body shook with a resounding climax in perfect harmony with the music’s ending crescendo.
The crowd reacted with thundering applause as nearly everyone around Stacy jumped to their feet. She was unable to move, her body still throbbing from the effect of her intense orgasm. She opened her eyes to discover that Mildred was staring intently at her face, her lips pulled into a knowing smile.
‘Oh god, could she have heard the buzzing from the clamps?’ Stacy thought, fearfully realizing that Mildred’s ears were no more than a few feet from them.
“Incredible, wasn’t it?” The older woman inquired, her smile not fading.
Stacy gulped hard, unable to vocalize an answer. She nodded.
“The first time I heard that music I was seventeen. It was during the winter Olympics of nineteen eighty-four. A pair of ice skaters from England were ice dancing to that music. It was incredible. Their routine was choreographed to the music so perfectly that every movement was a sensuous complement to it. It was so incredibly sexy. I had my first orgasm sitting right there in the living room with my family all around. As a virgin, I wasn’t aware of what I was experiencing. I just knew that something special had just happened.” Mildred placed her hand over Stacy’s. “I envy you, my dear.”
“Oh, why is that?” Stacy managed to croak out, trying to shield her red face with her other hand.
“Now you can go home and have the most exquisite sex with your husband.”
Stacy turned to look into Harold’s face. He was sporting a smile not unlike the one that Mildred had. Was she sensing a conspiracy here?
“Yes, I certainly can.”
The End