I leaned back in my seat, inching my hips forward to allow him easier access. The bias cut of the skirt meant that it presented no obstacle to his enquiring lips, as they reached the softest part of my inner thigh, just at the edge of my pussy.

I caught my breath. I could see the opera unfolding on the stage far below, but my mind was unable to focus on the adulterous shenanigans going on between Susanna, the Count and Figaro. All i could think of was Allen's incessant tongue, and how it kept tantalizingly brushing my labia.

What, I didn't mention that I had also gone commando? Oh yes.

Well, think about it. Smooth flowing satin should never be ruined by a rogue pantie-line, don't you agree? It's pretty much a given, under the circumstances. Plus, it feels incredible.

But I digress.

Allen was by now knelt on the floor between my knees, his shoulders masked by swathes of flowing satin. From outside the box, anyone in the audience not entirely engrossed in the opera, with a penchant for looking sideways and up, could see me . My head, my shoulders and upper torso, my back slightly arched, and an enraptured expression on my face.

I could feel his hot breath against my leg, as his mouth hovered above me, alternately kissing and nipping on the very upper inside of my thigh and my labia, his tongue flicking at my clit just often enough to keep me breathless and immobile. His hand was gently stroking me; deeply caressing until i felt as though it had melded into me; his fingers reaching far into me. I could think of nothing else but him moving on and inside my body, and I shifted my torso slightly down and forwards, to enable his access more.

Though my eyes faced the stage, they beheld nothing.