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Everyone having sex is at least 18. This is a work of fiction. I made this all up, you can check reality at the door and enjoy it for what it is, a story. The TV talent contest is fictional, although it’s modeled after one of the real shows. Special thanks to goducks111 for his help.
Chapter 11 — The Finals
Breakfast came way too early today. I am tired, have dried cum all over me, my hair is a mess. I stink. I am also alone in bed; I need to get going. I roll over and get out of bed. The shower is starting, I am waiting for the hot water. I step in when the water is warm. This feels good.
The door opens, two arms wrap around me. I know this is Kim just by the perfume she wears. Breasts push into me, yup, that would be Kim, all right.
Kim purrs, “Bret sent me in to help you. You look worn out. Damn, I was hoping to fuck you. Arggg!”
She washes my hair with her breasts pressed into me the whole time. That never gets old. She lathers up every part of my body, then rinses it off. My cock got lots of attention. I am dragged out, and she dries me off. She takes my hand and assists in dressing me. She is enjoying this way too much, that amuses me.
I get a big jolt of energy when I see Rose sitting at the table eating breakfast and talking to the family. It does make me happy to see a smile on her face. She is in pain; I see her wince to specific movements. I go straight to her and give her a big hug. She cries hard because I singled her out, showing my acceptance.
We go to the LA Opera again. Larry and Mark are there waiting. We start by doing a run-through of our duet, my solo, and then to test me, Ave Maria.
Grandma stands up and yells at the stage, “WRONG! That’s not how to sing that song. Marco, you used to sing it correctly, show them.”
I sing it the way I was taught, not the way Larry says is correct.
Grandma says, “See, that’s the right way.”
Larry seems amused, “That’s three octaves too high.”
Grandma shouts, “I don’t know what that means, but I grew up in Italy listening to the old masters sing that song. I bet if you find an Italian version or an old piece of music, you’ll see what they used to sing. That was one of the beautiful things about this song, the highs were high, and the lows were low. It’s the big range that makes the song legendary. Do it right.”
Well, due to modern technology, we have the internet on our phones. Sure enough, the Italian version is different. No shit. Nobody else seemed to care one way or the other. We work more on my power and how to modify notes being held. There are several things I can do, and I didn’t know any of them. This is a great session for me.
Since I don’t need to write anymore, they bring in some composers. They don’t write music for the LA Opera; they re-arrange tunes to fit the building and the musicians they have. It’s fascinating to sit down with them. As an example, we go over our two songs. They agree with me on most of the changes. Knowing the show’s limited band, they suggest a few changes in the music to help cover parts of the song.
True, only .001% of the audience will notice. I will know, and I will be more confident for it. My song with Maggie, they disagree with me on quite a bit. They go on to explain why and then I can see it. Before it was good, now it’s great. This is a mixture of her range, her type of voice, and the band that will be playing. I had no idea so much stuff went into this.
They smile at me and say, “Wait until you get into a studio, the producers will blow your mind.”
We go out to dinner again at a restaurant with customers, although we still get a private room. There is still a divide in the room. I can’t imagine Bret or Kim ever trusting my family completely, they know they’re the mob. I am ok with that. Rose is quiet; she is still in pain. I guess the good thing is it could have been much worse.
After dinner, some jazz is playing, and everyone is sitting in the living room. Cindy is telling some funny stories from her training days. Some guys didn’t know she was a black belt in Karate and tried to make her look bad. That was a big mistake. She is a very vivid storyteller.
Kim has been annoying me for the last thirty minutes, she looks to have ants in her pants. She can’t sit still. She gets up and walks to our room. She made a ‘come along’ motion to me. I get up to follow her, and all conversations stops.
Maggie says softly to my sisters, “Mom just initiated a booty call.”
I hear them all giggling. She wouldn’t do that; Bret is right here. What does she want and what’s her problem? I am slow to make my way to the room. They are all harassing and teasing me.
When I do walk into our room, I don’t see her. I check the kitchen, nobody. Maybe she is retaking a shower. I walk into our bedroom and am surprised by a naked Kim in our bed.
I walk towards the washroom, “Shower?”
Kim rolls under the sheets until she is on the edge of the bed and looking at me.
Kim smiles and şirinevler escort surprises me, “Bret sent me in here. He wants you to settle me down. Seeing what you did to Maria last night and then Anna after that has me so fucking horny; I can barely see straight. I tucked you three in last night. I almost attacked you then. I realized they wore you out, I bided my time. Bret has known for a while that I wanted your young cock.”
I am scared, “Maggie and my sisters are right out there. They’ll hear us.”
Maggie is in the doorway, “I think it will be a bit more than hearing.”
I stammer, “Um … Maggie … I um …”
She folds her arms, “Yes?”
I plead, “I don’t think this is what you think it is … I was …”
Maggie smiles, “According to dad, you’re about to fuck mom. I want to watch.”
I am quick to answer, “OH NO, you don’t.”
She knows she wins, “I need to see how my boyfriend fucks my mother. I want to verify that you treat her right. Please continue.”
How did I get into this mess? Maggie points to the bed. I smile, but I walk lethargically, like I am on death row. Once at the side of the bed. I slowly unbutton a button and show it to Kim. Then hell broke loose. Maggie, Bret, Anna, Maria, and Cindy all rush me. What the hell did I do? Rose is in the doorway, looking amused but not partaking.
Bret picks me up with both arms and holds me out flat. Everyone else took a button, shoe, sock, pants, boxers, belt, and finally, the shirt. I am then thrown into bed with Kim. With everyone in the room or near the door, I position Kim to face them sitting on her rear. I then get behind her and wrap my legs around her. I am sitting upright, like Kim.
I whisper to Kim her orders, “Never look down, only straight ahead, at our guests. I want you cupping your breasts and hefting them up and allow them to fall in your hands. I will play with your nipples. From this position, you will look like you have four arms. That should look fascinating.
I didn’t need to see it; I can tell by the crowd’s reaction that she is smiling big. I see her arms moving, which means her breasts are working up and down. I run my arms in front of her body. I spread out my fingers and feel around for the breasts. I latch on, and now I can squeeze the nipple.
I tell Kim, “Remember, straight face. No flinching from pain.”
I don’t pull or twist the nipples too hard, or her face will break from the pain. I want her to keep stoic. I do twist, pull, and pinch her nipple lightly. After a few minutes, I increase the pressure a little. I would like to get an orgasm, but it should be a surprise to them. When I think she is primed, I blow a breath of air across her neck and down her back, followed by nibbling on her earlobes.
She went from zero to nuclear explosion in no time at all. The crowd is stunned. Well shit, I thought that would be received well, it should have been cool as hell. It’s a complete dud. What a waste of time and energy.
After a few seconds, Maggie screams, and that causes them all to scream.
Maggie excitedly asks, “What the fuck was that? It looked so cool!”
Maria adds, “The four arms blew my mind. Because of the angle, it really looked like she has four arms.”
Bret is frustrated, “Damn, I should have recorded that.”
Rose smiles big, “I’m selling copies, reasonably priced, firstborn, and your right leg will do.”
She was doing good until she starts giggling. That was a bad idea, it hurt.
Kim moves to the center of the bed and has instructions for me, “If you do anything but ram that huge cock into my pussy, I will kill you with my bare hands.” She has a look of pain on her face, “I need this bad. I have a high sex drive, and I’ve wanted you since New York.
“This is my time. I know you don’t love me. That’s fine, sex can be just for fun at times. It’s best with people you love, but a bit of variety never hurt. Just fuck me hard.”
I push in and start a gentle fucking. She looks at me like, “Really? Is that all you have?” I speed up incrementally in hopes that we find a speed she likes without resorting to my fastest.
“WAIT! Go back a little. Yes, right there!” shouts Kim, “So, that’s what all of you have been talking about. Oh my, yes, that is lovely. Just like you said, I can feel the veins sliding along my hot cunt. Oh yes, stay right there. Oh, Bret, we need to find this speed. This is amazing.”
For almost an hour, she looks like a little girl playing with a toy and amusing herself. Everyone is staring at her, enchanted by her playfulness. I have a big problem now, I went too long, I am almost out of energy, I don’t have enough for the ending.
Kim wraps her legs around me. I stop to look at her, and she rolls us both over.
She giggles as she says, “Let me drive for a while, I love this position.”
How did she know?
She looks down at me and says, “Years of experience.”
Damn, is she reading my mind?
For a good fifteen minutes, şişli escort she rides me slow, up, and down my shaft. She is wet, perspiration is rolling off her in buckets. Her face is red from working too hard. Shit, I should have stopped her a while ago. I wrap my legs around and roll her back where we started.
I look down at her, “Lack of experience, I’m sorry for not catching it sooner.”
I immediately go to a fast rate of fucking. I still have a little, but I always like to keep a finale up my sleeve. I am going almost as fast as possible. I am slamming into her with some power, but this isn’t about pain, that is more me trying to make sure she knows I am here. With my orgasm on the way soon, It’s all or nothing. I give it that last speed burst and sacrifice some length.
I get this feeling she is about to blow up in an orgasm. I use a hand and run two fingers along the side edges of her clit. An instant short scream followed by her falling back as if she passed out. Bret came running. Oh fuck, did I break his wife? He checks her vitals and gives me the thumbs up.
Now I can shoot my load into this fine sexy woman. Damn, she is a lot of fun. It’s not the same as Maggie and my sisters, but she made it fun. We are both on our backs, exhausted. Bret comes over and picks up his wife. She wraps her arms and legs around him, and he goes back to their room. She is too tired to make eye contact.
Maggie crawls into bed and kisses me hard, “Thank you. Mom needed that bad. It was a hell of a show as well. Do you still want to bother with me?”
Oh my, self-esteem issues. Ok, I guess after I just fucked her mom like that, it is probably a common question to ask.
My words are labored to say, “Your mom was fun. She knows how to have a good time.” I pause for dramatic effect, she lowers her head, PERFECT! “There is nothing better than having sex with someone you love. Your mom has a lot of catching up to do.”
Maggie’s eyes go wide, and she attacks me with kisses. That’s unexpected.
Rose has her own room; she doesn’t want an elbow to the ribs at night. Anna and Maria sleep with me. I am asleep before they even get in bed. I am exhausted.
Chapter 12 — And the Winner Is …
The rest of the week leading up to the finals is more of the same. Sex, singing, and learning from the Opera staff. They truly are amazing in their craft. These guys can sing anything, they love Opera. They love the songs and the stories. They are out of my league. They must be some friends to be helping Bret, Maggie, and me so much. Probably a story there somewhere.
There is no singing today, just some warmup scales, and more discussions about the songs, making sure every detail is perfect. Their attention to detail is at a level I didn’t know existed. I still have so much to learn.
They have a light lunch catered in and a good luck cake for everyone. After lunch, we head up to the theatre. Only a few people are around. I am the last finalist to show up today. We talk together and wish each other good luck. The magician doesn’t concern me much. He is excellent, but there is a long line of them that were awesome and never won. The comedian is the real competition. The guy makes me crack up every time. He will be earning big money someday soon.
Each finalist has their own room for friends and family. A producer visits us, he tells me to be natural. They won’t tell me how it will go down, but I should help all that I can if needed. Because of my song, I will be first. There will be people and pictures behind me, ignore them, concentrate on my song.”
Did he say anything? Dude is like a politician. I am nervous, almost shaking. Grandma points at me and then the chair next to her. She doesn’t move. I cautiously walk over there. Once sitting next to her, she slaps my face. The entire room is silent.
Grandma kisses my cheek, “Stop being so nervous. You survived being tossed from the family and at least a dozen contract killers. Now all you need to do is sing a song and your shaking like a leaf. You’ll do fine. Those Opera guys were very sharp, you improved a lot. I am proud that you took their advice and didn’t think you were smarter than they are and ignore them. That’s the smart play. Let’s go, that man is calling us over.”
My family is put in the audience while I am backstage with the others. All three of us are nervous. I hear the judges talking to the audience. I am handed a mic, and I walk out on stage. Already on stage is a full military color guard with every service being represented. The entire back and sides of the stage is a large screen displaying the United States red, white, and blue flag that’s waving proudly on the widescreen. It takes up the entire screen.
I am standing on the star in the middle of the stage.
The judge that hates me says, “We know who you are, where you’re from, and I bet half the audience can guess your song. That’s a hard song kid, let’s see what you have.”
I say with a proud smile, “For taksim escort those around the world, watching tonight, I am about to sing “The Star-Spangled Banner,” the United States national anthem. Its indeed, tough to sing.”
I take two deep breaths and then begin, “Oh, say can you see, by the dawn’s early light …”
I nailed it, a perfect rendition. I made the rafters shake, I held my notes and varied my notes as I was taught, making the performance much more impressive. This is a song that feeds off power. It will take all you have and then ask for more. I gave it so much energy, it almost choked. Because of Larry and Mark, my low notes are much deeper and radiated power.
The audience got caught up in the moment. They stand up and are screaming as I sing, and they sing along. That gave me more energy, so there was no doubt that I am singing. I see my family crying. My version of the song moves slower and gave me more time to hold notes and blast the keywords. It’s perfect for me.
I finish off the last line by holding the notes forever, “… and the homeeeeeee, of the, braveeeeeeeeeeeee!” My voice takes the notes up and down and then twists them up before ending on the correct pitch.
My hands fall to my knees, I am breathing hard, trying to catch my breath. The people are still screaming. I turn back to the flags. On command, they all click their heels and salute me. I tried my best, but I am sure that was the world’s worst salute that I returned. I turn around, and the judges are speechless.
The asshole judge is first, “I don’t know what to say. They seemed to like it. It was too long for me.” I have never heard such hate and filth as I did in response to his comments. Food and drinks were thrown at him. People tried to climb over bars to get at him. Damn, that is not quite the start that I was looking for. I am in big trouble.
The next judge is the old lady, she is crying too hard, she can’t speak.
She collects herself, “People have no idea how hard that song is to sing. You made it sound easy. I DO NOT agree with dumb ass, that was a beautiful and moving rendition that shook the entire theatre. Your power was off the meters, it was awesome.” The place cheers loud.
The young judge, Shannon, is a mess, she is crying, “I don’t know what to say. We all know that song; we have heard it hundreds of times, yet the power was off the charts and the emotions you put into it … Wow. Someone must be paying Al (the first judge), you can’t be that dumb, we just heard the best song ever on this show. You’re a fucking moron. Good luck getting renewed next year. Asshole. Marco, thank you for that, I will be listening to that every day when I wake up.
The last judge is sitting in his chair, chewing his pen cap, “I don’t know where to begin with you. The arrangement was perfect for you. Your mastery of notes improved. Generally, people speed up the song, so that missed notes get glossed over. You slowed it down. It was obvious that you hit every note, there was no hiding that with the way you sang it. I am at a loss for words. I will agree with the others, Al, you are an asshole, and that was a perfect rendition. Well done, Marco.
“People at home, remember to vote for your favorite finalist. Thank you, Marco.”
What, nothing about Maggie? Ok, time to leave the stage. I start walking off the stage.
I hear chants, “More, Maggie.” I am on the edge of the stage, handing the mic back to the stagehands. The guy holds me by the shoulders. It’s building, “More Maggie, More Marco!”
I see Maggie in her seat, she is hiding her face, she is embarrassed.
The last judge calls my name over the overhead PA. I take a deep breath and then walk out. I have my hands open like “What?”
I hear it clear now, “More Maggie, more Marco.”
I comment, “Wow, I am in the finals, and she still gets top billing. This is a tough town.”
I get a decent laugh.
The judge says, “Your duets have sold over a million copies so far. They seem to want one more. Can you sing once more for us?”
I have them eating out of my hands, “Maggie, could you stand to be on stage with me one last time? Well, get up here. I can’t do this on my own.” She is walking up onto the stage, embarrassed. “Hey, she needs a mic. We have been practicing some. Her father and the FBI have been protecting me. We have spent a lot of time together and we enjoy singing together. Our families love the way we sound together.
“We shared some lessons this week. Our hope is that a studio will allow us to continue recording duets. We have enjoyed singing together a lot. Here is Joe Cocker’s, ‘Up Where We Belong.’ I like this song, and I hope you enjoy it too.”
Maggie grabs my hand. We start with our backs to each other. As the song moves along, we turn towards each other more and more, so we are facing each other at the end. I hold the last note, and then she pops me a kiss on the lips, hands me the mic, and sprints back to her seat. For years they play the video of me just standing there holding two mics and looking completely lost and confused. We get a huge ovation.
I leave the stage as they go to commercial.
The other two acts are outstanding and get great ovations. Neither had the thunderous approval that I did. However, that one judge may have done me in. He glowed about the others.
Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
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