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#Piano Pronto
oconnormusicstudio · 23 days
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Billy Connolly and the William Tell Overture
  Today, we’ll be listening to the end of the William Tell Overture by Gioachino Rossini.  This piece, originally the overture to an opera, has been arranged for piano and is in several method books, including Piano Pronto Movements 1 and 2.  It’s also in Bastien Book 4 and Piano Maestro. The original story Maybe your grandparents watched the original Lone Ranger Or you saw the newer Lone…
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PRIMA PAGINA Il Giorno di Oggi lunedì, 09 settembre 2024
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fabriziosbardella · 1 year
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La qualità dell’assistenza medica in Italia nel periodo estivo è compromessa nella metà dei reparti e c’è emergenza negli ambulatori: il 15% chiude per ferie #fadoi #prontosoccorso #sanità #emergenzaambulatori #medici #inprimopiano #inevidenza #cronaca #malasanità #fabriziosbardella
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cupcakeinat0r · 9 months
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Broadway Baby ch. 3
Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x Fem!Reader
Summary: Today is your first lesson… and we’re not talking abt the piano lesson you give Gabriella…
Warnings: NSFW, fingering, squirting, mirror sex?, p in v, losing ur V card, unprotected (wrap it n tap it pls), nipple play
Tags: Sugar Daddy AU, Age gap, Soft dom! Miguel, Sub!Reader, reader is a Latina mami (written by a Latina <3), Miguel is a horny dilf (girl dinnerrr), and accurate Spanish translations <3
Word count: 5.7k
Ch. 2
Note: I do use the word ‘small’ but this is not in regard to reader’s appearance, simply a comparison to Miguel’s height :) <3
I promised y’all toe curling smut so I hope I delivered!!! Enjoy!!
That morning, you woke up earlier than normal because you wanted to make sure you showed up to Miguel’s house flawless.
You did your hair, you painted your nails, you moisturized your entire body, did your skin care regimen, and you meticulously did your makeup, hell, you even gua sha’d your face beforehand; a secret Santa gift from a year ago, never taken out of its box until now. It was your nerves to blame for your over-thorough preparation.
For your outfit, you settled on a knitted dress which hugged your body from top to just above the knees paired with a matching cropped cardigan and some close-toed heels. Cute yet professional.
On the way to Miguel’s place, you look over your little lesson planner you created the night before; something to go by as you teach Gabriella. You’ve never taught anyone in your life, let alone a child, but you were looking forward to it. You were technically helping raise the next generation of artists, and that made you feel excited about this opportunity.
Once you get to the location sent by Miguel, you look up to see a house that very much lives up to what you expected Miguel to live in. It was modern with clean and sharp edges. You were having to lean your head back it was so big, your eyes wide as you imagine the pricing on this real estate.
You take in a deep breath, ringing the doorbell.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Miguel’s morning was just as hectic.
Just like you, he wanted to make sure he looked good for you. He chose an outfit he thought you would really like. He shaved his face (even though you liked his scruff), fixed his hair, and put on the nicest cologne he owned.
He went as far as preparing a breakfast so that you had something to eat before or after your lesson with Gabriella.
Miguel, standing in the middle of his living room, looked around the house, making sure everything was presentable and clean for you.
“Gabri, casi listo (almost ready)? Your teacher’s gonna be here soon!” He calls from the bottom of the stairs. “Yes, papa, almost done!” She calls back.
Miguel then goes to his phone when he hears a notification.
Omw!! Just got in the car!
Great 👍
And what is omw?
It means ‘On My Way’!
Oh LOL 😂 Getting
too for old this I guess👴🏾
Jajajaja ay, no pa tanto,
(Not so much) you know What they say,
32 is the new 22!
Jajaja you’re too sweet.❤️
Bueno, te veo pronto.😌
( Well, see you soon.)
See you soon!!! So excited
to meet her!!!
Miguel reads the last text with a soft smile. You truly were just the sweetest human being he’s ever witnessed. Sometimes, he just wanted to cup your face and smother you in kisses. Or smother his face between those plush thighs of yours. Either way, he’d be a happy man.
He’ll be able to give into those fantasies. Soon.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
You stand on his doorstep, waiting after you rung the doorbell. Your heart drops as you hear the door unlocking.
It’s just Miguel. The man of your dreams, but he’s just a guy. Chill out.
When the door opens, there he is, standing 6 foot 9 inches, a beautiful latin man, clean shaven, wearing a compression shirt, gray sweats, some house slippers, and smells of teakwood and vanilla. He opens the door wide open, giving you his signature smile. “Morning, beautiful. Ven, ven.” (Come in, come in) he says, ushering you inside his home.
You always forget how actually beautiful he is until you see him in person. You swallow down hard as you look up at him and offer him a tight smile as you step inside. You can already feel your cunt flutter and a sticky warmth form in your underwear at just the sight of him as you step inside, stealing a glance at his ripped body underneath the thin fabric of his shirt. And those sweats were a size too small on him. Damn him.
Miguel was no better. When he opened that door and saw you, smaller than him and wearing a dress that accentuated your waist and ass, cleavage teasing him through the neckline and cardigan, his breath hitched. He had to hide his arousal with a smile, but goddamn, you looked delicious. If you weren’t here to teach his daughter how to play piano on her 7th birthday, he would’ve pulled you inside the house, bunched your dress above your tits, thrown you onto the sofa and fucked you missionary style until you were a panting mess.
“So How was the ride here, sweetie? Were you comfortable? Can I get you anything to drink? Agua, jugo de china…?” (Water, orange juice) He starts the conversation as you both step into the living room, his hand on the small of your back.
You chuckle at Miguel’s thoughtful questioning. “Don’t worry, it was very nice, and thank you so much for doing that, you didn’t need to!”
“Oh, please, I wasn’t gonna let you pay for an Uber to my house. And the subway was out of the question. Pretty girls like you don’t belong there, anyway.” He smirks, which makes you blush in return. “Muchas gracias, Miguel. I may actually do that glass of water, please.” As soon as you ask for it, Miguel is already in the kitchen fixing you the drink.
“Here you go, sweetie. I also made some breakfast, so please, help yourself. ” You blush at the name, taking the glass from him. “Thank you, this all looks so delicious! I’ll probably eat after the lesson. You look comfy, by the way!” You compliment Miguel before taking a sip. He smiles, looking down at his outfit before responding, “You could say that. I’m working from home, so no suit today. As for you, you look beautiful, but that’s old news.” He flirts before taking a sip of his own glass of water. You smile as your gaze retreats to the cup in your hands, “Oh, stop it, you’re too much.”
“What? I’m just telling the truth.” He says with a shrug and his brows furrowed. You can practically feel his eyes grazing over your body. Miguel loves the way you blush at his advances; practically lives off of it, your cute little bashful self. You look up to give him a smile, looking to change the subject or else you’ll become the color of a tomato.
“So where’s the birthday girl?” You set the glass down on the counter top, Miguel leaning against it on the other side. “She should be coming down any minute now. She’s been going through the roof about these lessons, but she doesn’t know that you’re teaching them, so you’ll be the surprise.” Your mouth drops in awe, your hand going up to touch your chest, “aw, oh my goodness, that just made me even more excited! Ugh, I’m a huge fan of hers already. ” Your smile is wide enough that your dimples become visible, Miguel taking note of them and wondering how you can be so hot and adorable at the same time. Miguel starts to lean closer toward you over the counter.
“Well, she’s a huge fan of yours,” Miguel says, getting even closer to you as he props himself on his elbows, his muscles on full display as he looks at you with a flirtatious gaze, “and I don’t blame her.” His words make your smile fall slightly as your eyes go down to those tempting lips, your insides crying for you to just lean over and kiss them. Miguel’s eyes follow yours, something primal unleashing in him when he sees your lips part. Then you hear the patter of small feet rushing down the stairs, the two of you looking at Gabriella as she comes down.
“Papa, is she here yet-“, her face drops when she sees you in the kitchen. Her idol was in her home. “Feliz cumpleaños, Gabriella!” (Happy Bday) You say, reaching your arms out when you see run up to you. She hugs you, her cheek pressed against your stomach as she squeals, then she looks up, “You’re gonna be my teacher?!” “That’s right, and we’re gonna have so much fun!” Your response makes her jump with joy. “This is the best birthday ever!!!”
Miguel looks at the two of you with a grin before speaking, “She’s gonna teach you piano today, mija, so listen carefully and follow her instructions, you hear me?” “Yes, papa! C’mon, papa got me a big piano yesterday for us to use!” She says, your hand in hers as she leads you through the house and into a smaller room. You shoot Miguel a giddy smile before being pulled away by the seven old.
“Do you have a piano like this?” She exclaims, sitting up on the bench of the piano. You place the lesson planner on a nearby table and sit next to her. “Oh, well, I’ve never actually had my own piano. I always played with pianos that belonged to my teachers or the theater.” You respond.
“Oh. You can play with mine anytime you want, then!” She says with a toothy smile. You giggle at her adorable generosity in return, “Thank you, mamita, I appreciate it.” Miguel leans against the doorframe watching you two talk to each other a little more and he’s living for how happy Gabriella is to be with you. Sure, she was daddy’s girl, and loved him to death as any spoiled little girl would, but he’s never seen her like this. She was usually so shy with people but with you, Gabriella was an open book.
“Alright, I’ll leave you two ladies to it, then. If you need me, I’ll be in the study.” He says, closing the glass door behind him.
“Okay, ready?” “Ready!” Gabriella says, and with that, the lesson had started. “Tell me everything you know about the Piano, mama.”
“Ummm…”, her eyes travel across the black and white keys. “In music class, Mrs. Smith showed us how to read music!” You perk up in surprise. “Awesome! So, let’s see… if I pressed this key, do you know what letter this is?” You say, pressing the middle white key. “Oh! Um, um, that’s a… C?” “Yes! Oh my goodness, you’re such a smart girl! Do you know what this one is?” “Uh… G!” “Right again!” You joyfully laugh at your young pupil’s intelligence.
“I only know these ones though, I dunno the black ones.” She says, discouraged. “Oh, don’t you worry, mamita, I’ll show you. By the end of today, you’ll be a pro at these black keys! Watch…”, then you use your right hand, gently pressing the keys to explain to her their assigned letters. Miguel is able to take a peek into the piano room from his study, occasionally peering over his computer with a smile. You were the cutest lil teacher for his daughter.
He wasn’t getting any work done, too busy admiring your patience and gentleness with Gabriella anytime she wasn’t able to get something right. You were so encouraging and uplifting, and that’s exactly what Gabri needs. It’s what Miguel was looking for in a partner. You were beautiful. You were kind. You were intelligent and strong. All those things were bonuses, but this right here, what you were doing in that piano room, was what set you apart. This wasn’t just physical attraction anymore. He was falling deeply for you. He needed you.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
There was about 15 minutes left in your hour lesson with Gabri when she asks, “May I use the restroom?”
“Of course, mama, you don’t ever need to ask that! I’ll be right here waiting.” You say warmly as she hops off the bench and leaves. You’re left alone with the most beautiful piano sitting in front of you, and your hands itch to play on it. Not able to fight back the urge, you begin to play some Debussy.
Nose deep in his work, Miguel’s head bobs up from the sea of papers in front of him when he hears the melody. The corners of his mouth lift, and he walks toward the piano room. He sees you playing through the open door, watching as you get lost in the music. Still playing, you take a quick glance to the side, feeling as though someone was at the entrance of the room, finding that you were right. You stop playing and pat at the bit of open bench next to you.
“Wanna learn?” You wholesomely prompt, but he chuckles, shaking his head in apprehension. “I’d rather not, I wouldn’t understand a single thing.” “Ay, no seas asi (don’t be like that). C’mon, let me show you at least a little bit! Please?” You plead, tilting your head to the side as you persuade Miguel, and it works. With a sigh, he sat down on the bench, straddling it so that he’s facing you.
You immediately regret the decision when you can feel his large body just mere inches from your much smaller stature. You clear your throat, “The song I was playing just now was in the key of D flat Major, meaning I only press these keys…” you start explaining the music to Miguel, but he’s completely lost in how your lips move, the way your voice sounds like honey, how your eyes look from the piano and back up to him. You begin to crack under his intense gaze.
He isn’t getting a single word of this.
You knew he wasn’t really listening, but you kept talking about the song anyway, scared of giving into his seductive look. He was so close to you right now. He was all up in your business. You were quivering from the tension in the air, your only refuge being all 88 of the keys in front of you. Due to your nervousness, your voice had grown softer, slightly wavering. You swallow down before rambling on, “and, um, this here is a… is a harmonic scale…and, uh….”
Miguel sees your hand tremble as it hovers over the piano. He then grabs it lovingly. You stop talking, your nerves easing from the warmth of his hand. His thumb rubs circles on the back of your hand reassuringly, his hand completely engulfing yours. With the palm of his hand against the back of yours, he intertwined his fingers with yours, bringing it up to his face.
“So soft…”
he whispers, breathing in your scent as he places a kiss on the palm of your hand, making a small smack when he pulls away. “So sweet…” He then slowly brings his mouth to your neck, your skin prickling with every brush of his breath. “Miguel…” you murmur when you feel his lips and tongue suck at the flesh of your neck, the low vibrations of his voice against your skin sending shivers down your body.
He moves up to the shell of your ear, whispering with strain, as if he’s been holding this back for far too long, “You drive me crazy, you know that? sabes cuanto te necesito?” (you know how much I need you?). He puts his head back into the crook of your neck, planting small kisses there and his hands wrapping around your waist, squeezing the clothed flesh. As Miguel’s touches become fervid, you let out a small moan, trying to use your hands to stop him, “ay, M-Miguel, no puedo (I can’t), what if Gabriella-“
“por favor, cariño, (please, sweetie) I can’t… Mm… I can’t wait…Mngh… any longer, bebe…(baby)” he begs in between kisses that make their way up your jaw and to your cheek. He completely wraps his ginormous arms around you, his fragile doll, caged by his burly build.
“I need you so badly, sweetheart.” He coos breathlessly, brows knitted as he pouts like a lovesick puppy.
When he’s about to kiss you on your lips, he stops to drink in your face. Your lips pouted and parted. His eyes, the color of sweet, dark wine, looking down at them, imagining how soft they’ll feel in about a second… or how they would feel wrapped around his massive dick. One of his hands cups your face, the other wrapped around your waist to pull you in even closer to press against his thick, toned body. You look up at him with those same big, round, doe eyes; that same innocent look that never fails to make his dick throb. You don’t look down at it (as much as you wanted to, but you were occupied by his now even more plump and wet lips), but you can feel it against the side of your thigh… and he’s big.
“So pretty for me…,” his thumb swipes at your bottom lip, “You’re so good… so fucking perfect… fuck, c’mere-“ he hungrily smashes his face against yours, lips entangled, his tongue probing at your entrance before you eagerly let him in. You snake your arms around his neck, deepening the kiss. What began as a sweet, tender kiss quickly turns into a heated one, the room filled with the smack of y’all’s lips and soft sighs of pleasure. His hold on you tightens with each pleasured whimper you send into his mouth, his own growls and tongue going down your throat and igniting the heat between your legs. You feel the warmth of his hand on your cheek leave, returning on your inner thigh after he lifts your dress, his hand going up higher and higher…
Your make-out session was cut short by the sound of a distant sink being turned on. Must’ve been Gabriella washing her hands, which means she would be walking back in here any second now.
You both pulled away hurriedly, having to catch y’all’s breaths and fix yourselves. Miguel stood up from the bench, a shit eating grin on his face as he looked at how hot and bothered you became. “perdón, hermosa (sorry, beautiful), just can’t control myself around you,” he leans down to catch you in one last, tongue-eating kiss, pulling back with a big pop!, “Let me know when you two are done, yea?” He whispers again, and you nod at him, your eyes still hooded and lips bruised from his kisses. After he kisses your forehead, you watch him leave the room at the same time Gabriella comes in.
“I’m back!… Are you ok, Miss. y/n?” She says, her cute face contorted in genuine concern.
“Oh! Uh,” you say, fixing your hair and finally catching your breath, ”I’m fine, mamita! Never been better… So where were we?”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Aww, do you have to leave now?” Gabriella pouts. You brush a strand of hair behind her ear when you bend over to face her, the three of you standing in the living room near the front door.
“I’m sorry, mama, but I have to. We’ll have another lesson tomorrow!” You say softly, trying to make her feel better.
“Yea, but… but… I like being with you a lot.” You could’ve exploded from the cuteness overload. You felt so bad for leaving her, especially on her birthday.
“Say what… I have to be in the theater in a couple hours to get to my curtain call, however… I coulddd give a certain birthday girl a private tour of the stage…” you tap your chin and act mysterious.
Gabriella gasps, her mouth agape, “You can do that?!” You laugh at her shocked expression. “If your papa is okay with it?” You say, looking up at Miguel. “That would be great. What do we say, Gabri?” “Thank you, Thank you, Thank you!!!” She hugs you, you embracing her tiny form. “You’re so very welcome, mama, I’ll see you tonight then, okay?” You cup her face when she looks up at you.
“Okay! I’m gonna go pick my outfit! I’m so excited! I can’t believe I get to see the show again!” She says, pulling away and running up the stairs. You stand back up, smiling at Miguel. Miguel looks at the top of the stairs to wait for Gabriella to be in her room until he walks up to you, placing his hands on your hips. “That was very generous of you, sweetie, but you’re already doing so much for her by giving her these lessons.” He says, his hand under your chin, his thumb caressing it.
“Well, the lessons are your birthday present to her, so this is my present to her.” You say cheerily. “Thank you for the food, by the way, it was all delicious. Not as good as my cooking, pero… casi casi (but almost),” you say half jokingly. Miguel lets out a chuckle, “Oh, I’m taking that as a challenge. I’ll have to try it to believe it.”
“Someday you will.” “I look forward to it, hermosa,” he winks at you as he opens the door. “See you later then, cariño (honey).”
He’s confused as he watches you give him a small wave and take one step outside, but you’re stopped when he grabs your hand, turning you back toward him.
“You didn’t think you were leaving without a goodbye kiss, did you?” He pulls you back into him, wrapping his arms around you once more and placing his lips on yours. This one was much more sweet and tender compared to the ones shared in the piano room. Fireworks went off in your head, along with the smell of his after shave still lingering. “There. Now you can go.” You giggle as he gives your butt a light squeeze, “See you later, Miguel.”
Miguel watches with gratification as you walk into the car he had ordered for you. Now he was the one who couldn’t get his eyes off your ass. You sit in the car practically glowing from what had just happened.
That wasn’t too bad for your first kiss. Well, kisses, to be exact.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The show went as programmed, another successful performance for the books. Once you entered your dressing room, you found a gigantic bouquet of flowers and a box.
Hmm, I Wonder who sent them.
In the middle of appreciating the flowers, you hear a knock on your door.
“Just a second!” You fix yourself in the mirror suspecting who it was, patting a napkin on your face as to take off any performance sweat and reapplying perfume.
You go to open the door to find Miguel, “Good Evening, Mr. O’Hara.” “Good evening, y/n. Mind if I come in for a moment?” You two play the parts of patron and cast member convincingly, holding back mischievous smiles as other crew and cast members hurry by for the resetting of the stage and whatnot.
Miguel steps in, and you close the door behind him. While you’re locking the door, he grabs you by the waist, you squeal in surprise.
“You did so good up there, baby,” he wraps his arms around you, your back against his torso, smothering you in kisses anywhere he could get his lips on, “eres tan chula,” smack!, “tan talentosa,” smack!, “Mm, y tan deliciosa”, smack! You break out into a fit of giggles. (So pretty, so talented, and so delicious)
You reach your hands up to his face, running your fingers through his silver fox hair, “gracias… y Gabriella?” (Thank you, and Gabriella?).
“She’s with her grandmother. I invited her to come with us since it’s Gabi’s birthday. You like your present?” He motions at the box. “Oh! I didn’t even get a chance to open it!” He frees you from his grasp to let you grab the box, and you open it. Your mouth drops.
“Miguel, this is…” your face goes from surprise to worry, ”ay dios mio, (oh my god) how much was-“ “Shh, don’t worry about that, princesa. Ven, (come) lemme put it on you.” You give him a scowl before turning around and letting him put it on.
You had to admit, this diamond necklace did look gorgeous on you. You tried to not think about what quadruple-digit number he spent getting you this. You both stand in front of the vanity mirror.
“Look how pretty my girl is,” his voice drips with seduction, his hands falling down your body. His lips find your neck, nibbling at the sensitive skin. You get goosebumps from the way he calls you ‘my girl’. You sigh as his lips work their magic. He sits down on the velvety stool behind him, pulling you down with him, “Don’t even lift a muscle, sweetheart, just sit there n look pretty for me.”
You let out a small yelp when he lifts your legs, using his own to spread them. You can feel himself harden against your lower back, the sensation instantly making you wet. One of his hands steadies you on his lap, the other one palming your now pulsating cunt, clothed by a pair of booty shorts and fishnets. His hand snakes into them, finding your wet and gushy pussy. He finds your throbbing clit, rubbing tiny circles on it. You bite your lip, holding back moans. “Aw, mi nena tan chula is so sensitive” (my pretty girl), Desperate for his touch, you grind against his hand, your mouth falling open and hands squeezing onto his thick thighs for dear life. “Coño, mami… so ready for me, aren’t you? Hm? Toda mojada para mi? (All wet for me?)”, Miguel slides the shorts down your legs, and using both hands, he rips a hole in the fishnets so that he can have a first-class view of your 5-star pussy, the mirror showing a leak of arousal flowing down your entrance and onto his pants, causing you to whine.
“Awww fuck, it’s even prettier than I thought.” He breathlessly growls in your ear, his middle and ring finger finding your clit again.
“Ay, M-Miguel, yes, Ungh~ feel s- s’good,” you try to form a sentence, but it’s difficult with the way Miguel’s calloused, thick fingers rub against your womanhood, his other hand playing with your nipple. He gently plays with the erected nipple between his index and thumb, occasionally pulling it and rubbing it, sending yummy jolts down to your pussy.
He then inserts the two fingers, feeling around your walls and going in and out, “Gotta get my pretty girl ready for my cock, hm? Don’t wanna hurt her, oh nooo.” He coos, kissing his teeth with a ‘tsk tsk tsk’.
Miguel sees your hips stuttering against his fingers, taking that you’re close. His dick is already leaking from how much your hips were moving against it. There’s no doubt there’s a wet spot on his pants. He quickens his speed, your juices beginning to squirt out from your drenched cunt, droplets landing on the mirror before you.
“Ay, Miguel! Oh my god!” You whine out, head falling back on his shoulder. Miguel lets out a sigh as you squirt out your climax, rubbing your clit side to side as it sprays. Once you finish, he displays his hand in front of you, which glistens under the vanity lights, “mira mami, look what a mess you made… fuck.” (Look, mami)
“S-sorry, I didn’t mean to-“ “Aw, sweet heart, you’re so cute… no necesitas disculparte (no need to apologize), I love that you can do that,” he purrs into your ear as he brings his fingers to his mouth, licking them, tasting them.
“Mm, Sabes tan dulce…” (you taste so sweet).
He gently picks you up and sits you on the vanity. As much as he wanted to go to town on your pussy and feast until he drank up every drop, his dick was basically hurting, that’s how much it ached to be inside you.
Your gaze follows the sound of a zip! And your eyes widen at the sight. Miguel bunches his briefs right under his heavy balls, a long, thick, angry cock springing against his happy trail. He sees your obvious concern, bringing a hand to your face.
“Everything alright?” He looks at you, brows knitted together and his voice is soft.
“Yes, it’s just… this is my first time.” You nervously chuckle.
“Are you sure you want this?” He asks, “please know it’s okay to not be ready. I want you to be comfortable.” He places a kiss on your forehead. You look up at him, using those doe eyes of yours on him, “Please, Miguel… I want it.”
“Are you sure?” He asks again. “Yes, Miguel…” you say his name sensually, your hands traveling down his chest, down to his erect cock, giving it a stroke, your thumb teasingly swirling the precum on his tip.
“I need it.”
Miguel bites his lip, jaw clenching from the softness of your hands against his pulsing length, his auburn eyes growing hungry.
“I’ll go slow, honey. If it hurts too much, just let me know, m’kay? ” You give him a soft smile, and you both kiss tenderly. He takes a second to take your shirt off, ogling at your perfect tits. You then pout and tug at his shirt, which he follows along, revealing his god-like body. You didn’t care that you drooled. He then looks down, your legs already wrapped around his slutty waist, leveling himself to your entrance. Holding it in his hand, he slaps his fat cock against your pussy a couple times, the wet noises making both of you even more turned on. Your mouth falls open again, his plump tip spreading your lips with ease. Miguel hisses as he goes in deeper, trying his absolute best to go slow and not ram you right then and there. Your pussy tightens around him, feeling his veins pulsate against your walls.
“Fffuck, so tight, baby…o-oh fuck-“ Miguel bottoms out, staying there for a second, allowing you to adjust. The pain was short, quickly turning to pleasure as he slowly began a rhythm. He makes love to you slowly and deeply, each thrust hitting the deepest part of you. “Taking me so- Mmfuck! So well, sweetie, you’re doing s’good,” he says, his forehead against yours. He was so big, you could’ve sworn you could see a bulge in your stomach. He placed a hand on it, making you whimper from the sensation. “Look at that, baby, look so good all filled up with my cock.”
You blush, wanting to cower and turn your face away. You bite on your bottom lip again, muffling your screams and cries. “Mi amor, no hagas eso (don’t do that), breathe, baby, breathe. Need you to relax, mkay?”
You turn back to him, trying your best to maintain eye contact. He brings his thumb down to rub your puffy clit, the sensation relaxing your weeping, abused cunt, “Atta girl, thaaat’s a good girl. Look at me, baby. Aw, yea, wanna see that pretty face.” His cock was able to slide in and out, your pussy greedily sucking him in. Your high-pitched moans were music to his ears.
“M-Miguel, p-please,”, you’re barely able to get out your words, your voice trembling, “si, bebe, que tu quiere? Anything you want, baby.” (Yes, baby, what do you want?)
“Mas rapido.. mas duro, por favor, please, just- just use me, please, daddy?” You were able to finally get it out. You wanted nothing more than for Miguel to just pound you and use you like his toy. (Faster, harder, please).
“Whatever you want, baby girl, daddy’s gonna take care of you, gonna make you feel sooo good.”
Without another second to spare, Miguel pulls back with just his tip inside, and pounds back into you like no other. You scream, tears running down your face as Miguel has his way with you. He kisses those tears away, murmuring, “I know, I know”’s and “I’m sorry”’s into your ear. The vanity shakes vigorously, hitting the wall repeatedly, almost breaking in the process. You hold onto his broad shoulders like your life depended on it. Your bouncing tits catch his attention, and without hesitation, takes one into his mouth, sucking and licking like a wild man.
“God, daddy fucking loves these tits. Look so fucking pretty getting railed while wearing the necklace he gotchu.” you hear muffled against your chest. As if you weren’t stimulated enough, he adds his finger back on your clit, making your eyes roll back from all the different points of pleasure. He lifts his face from your hardened nipple and says, “This pussy’s mine. This juicy ass is mine,” and you feel a loud smack! of his hand on your ass, letting out a whimper,
“You’re all mine. Who’s this pussy belong to, hm?”
“Ugh, you, daddy, I’m all yours! Please, don’t stop, please please please-“ you start sounding like a broken record, muttering ‘daddy’ over and over. “Ay, papi, estoy cerca… i'm gonna come…” (I’m close) you cry, the name fueling Miguel’s drive, so he quickened his pace, the sound of his balls slapping against your ass and your cries filling the room. He growls into your neck, biting there,
“That’s right, sweetie, come on daddy’s cock.”
You could care less if the whole theater heard you, your virginity was being taken by the man of your dreams. Plus, it seemed to be getting Miguel riled up even more. He adored your cute sounds.
Once you reach your orgasm, you let out a long whine, your mouth in an o-shape, but Miguel keeps going, riding out his own high, “fuck…almost there baby, just a little longer, I promise… you can do that for daddy, yea? Ohhh I know you can, sweetie.” He coos, drowning you in lazy, sloppy kisses.
When Miguel feels he’s about to burst, he pulls out. It isn’t long before you feel his warm seed spill onto your stomach, Miguel’s groans clouding your mind as he empties himself onto you.
He stands up straight, taking in the gorgeous view of his kid on your lower body, your pussy still crying from his massive cock, and your face in total euphoria. You try to sit up, but he stops you, “no, princesita, déjame limpiarte primero,” (let me clean you first), he goes to grab a few napkins on your vanity, wiping you clean of his and your juices.
“You ok?” He caressed your face, brushing your hair away from it. You managed a weak, frail smile.
You poor, sweet thing.
“Yes, I’m okay,” He smiles before placing a sweet kiss on your lips, “Not sure if I’ll be able to walk, but I’m more than okay with that.” He chuckled.
“You did so well. So proud of my girl.” He says with a smirk in a low, husky tone, then playfully licking your lips which makes you giggle. He takes you into his embrace, your chests rising and falling together as he plants kisses on your shoulder.
You both flinch when you hear a knock at your dressing room door and the voice of a little girl right outside.
Y’all almost forgot about Gabriella and her grandma.
Oops.
——————————————————————
Still feral abt this man. Also, can y’all tell I’m a music major? ☠️☠️☠️
Hope you liked it! <3
Until the next chapter <3
Mwah <3
Ch.4
The Cutie Patootie Tag list:
@honey-eyed-munson
@migueloharastruelove
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tulipanico · 10 months
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Torino, poi, lo dico sempre: é la prima città che ho visto da dietro l'obiettivo. L'ho scoperta piano, impaurita; mi sono emozionata quando, proprio la prima sera, la signora della pizzeria da dietro il bancone mi ha chiesto se fossi una fotografa. Settimana dopo settimana mi sono follemente innamorata del suo reticolato quasi perfetto, dell'eleganza, della signorilità; ho sognato di vivere dietro quelle finestrelle alte alte, di passare tutte le domeniche così, passeggiando. Non si può, ma é bello sapere di avere un posto che è pronto ad accoglierti.
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colonna-durruti · 2 months
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ASCANIO CELESTINI
FASCISTI contro ITALIANI
Bologna 2 agosto 1980
Il nuovo fascismo è il risultato di una sconfitta.
Ha le radici nel 25 luglio del ’43 con l’arresto di Mussolini e la fine del fascismo di governo col suo mito dell’impero. Il nuovo fascismo comincia a ristrutturarsi attorno al sentimento di vendetta e rivalsa dopo l’8 settembre aggrappandosi in maniera ancor più solida al nazismo tedesco e combatte per due anni una guerra contro l’Italia e gli italiani. Lo spiega Junio Valerio Borghese in una famosa intervista: «Combattere contro gli italiani non mi ha imbarazzato affatto». Siamo nel 1975 quando è già scappato all’estero dopo aver tentato il colpo di Stato dell’8 dicembre 1970. Per lui e per i suoi sodali della Decima Mas… quella che piace al “camerata” Vannacci, insomma…Per quei fascisti «Non era una guerra territoriale, era una guerra ideologica». In nome di quelle che definisce civiltà occidentale e mondo orientale, ribadisce che ancora «oggi combatto contro gli italiani» perché tra gli italiani ci sono i comunisti «che sono nemici e che se potessimo sterminarli io sarei molto contento».
Il fascismo di Salò è soprattutto questo: vendetta, rivalsa e anticomunismo. Un’ideologia che non solo ce li presenta orgogliosi dei crimini che hanno commesso, ma li vede anche pronti a commetterli di nuovo. A combattere con orgoglio “contro gli italiani”.
Giorgio Almirante lo dice chiaramente: «Sono stato fascista insieme con molti italiani fino alla fine con Mussolini e se le stesse circostanze potessero riprodursi io farei certamente le stesse cose».
Nel congresso del ’56 il fascista repubblichino fondatore del MSI conia una definizione chiara per i nuovi camerati della Repubblica quando parla di una strana contraddizione, ovvero: «L’equivoco, cari camerati, è uno e si chiama essere fascisti in democrazia».
Sempre Almirante, emblema del fascismo che è pronto a togliersi giacca e cravatta per tornare a indossare la camicia nera, si dichiara rispetto alla dittatura dei colonnelli in Grecia.
Per lui i «veri patrioti greci» sono i fascisti. E dichiara: «Noi siamo virilmente pronti alla realtà, senza ipocrisie. Qualora soluzioni anche di forza ci salvassero dal comunismo… ben vengano le soluzioni di forza».
Nel frattempo sono cominciate le stragi. Il fascismo ha una presenza ben articolata nel panorama della politica italiana: il partito dei fascisti in democrazia ha un piede nei governi (comuni, provincie, regioni oltre che in Parlamento); l’eversione di destra passa in scioltezza dallo spontaneismo di Mambro, Fioravanti e Ciavardini all’organizzazione di golpe e di stragi; cresce l’alleanza con la delinquenza di basso livello e con la criminalità che gestisce i grandi traffici e si relaziona col potere; si prepara alla colonizzazione dei mezzi di informazione e dei partiti politici per coinvolgere una classe dirigente presentabile e che non sia sfacciatamente amante dell’olio di ricino. E con questo ultimo passaggio siamo arrivati a quel magnifico documento trovato nel 1981 che descrive la strategia della loggia massonica P2. Ovvero il manifesto per una trasformazione democratica del paese dove «L’aggettivo democratico sta a significare che sono esclusi dal presente piano ogni movente od intenzione anche occulta di rovesciamento del sistema».
Se non teniamo conto di questa storia
non capiamo le motivazioni del neofascismo.
L’ideologia nefasta che accompagna la storia dell’Europa.
Che non si presenta sempre a petto nudo in mezzo al grano coi baffetti e il saluto col braccetto dritto, ma anche in giacca e cravatta, in tailleur e tacchi alti.
L’ideologia che colpisce i diritti in Parlamento, ma non disdegna l’uso della violenza esplicita, la strategia della tensione e del terrore come il 2 agosto del 1980 a Bologna.
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susieporta · 1 month
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L’eleganza di un’anima si soppesa da certi dettagli.
Da come tratta gli oggetti.
Da come chiude una porta, piano senza sbattere.
Da come appoggia un vaso su un tavolo o un portachiavi, leggermente senza impattare.
Meno la persona impatta, maggiore è la sua eleganza.
Il suo respiro è sottile
Il suo odore non è mai acre o pungente
Il tono della sua voce non si alza mai se non è necessario.
E il cibo.
Come prende con la forchetta e porta alla bocca un ciuffo d’insalata o un po’ di pastasciutta.
Come lascia sempre qualcosa per gli altri, non portando tutto a sè.
Come si relazione con le piante, dosando l’acqua, il sole e le parole, com’esse fossero vive.
Come accoglie la libertà degli animali dando comunque loro aiuto e conforto.
Come ascolta ed entra ed esce in punta di piedi, senza farti notare l’errore.
Come ti fa capire l’errore soltanto quando sa che sei pronto a serrare la bocca e chinare il capo, in silenzio.
Non un minuto prima, non un minuto dopo.
Come si muove tra la gente, senza urtare niente, senza muovere l’aria, senza far rumore, senza infastidire una chiocciola, o un ramo, o un passante.
Come dispensa sorrisi senza sedurre e silenzi, senza punire.
Tale eleganza è in ogni animale, in ogni essere del bosco e delle foreste, delle acque e dei cieli, e in pochissimo e rari esseri umani .
Claudia Crispolti
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arcobalengo · 8 months
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❗EMERGENZE E NUOVO PIANO PANDEMICO
Le emergenze costituiscono uno strumento formidabile per il potere che voglia comprimere le libertà democratiche e depotenziare le forze di dissidenza interne.
L'Italia della strategia della tensione dovrebbe aver insegnato molto, così come il post 11 Settembre statunitense.
Persino Adolf Hitler acquisì i pieni poteri in modo democratico a seguito dell'episodio dell'incendio del Parlamento e grazie all'articolo 48 della Costutuzione di Weimar che consentiva di "adottare ogni misura appropriata per rimediare ai pericoli per la sicurezza pubblica".
Fu per evitare simili derive che i nostri Padri costituenti decisero di non inserire lo stato di emergenza nella Costituzione del '48, prevedendo solo lo strumento del decreto legge (ex art.77 Cost.) per le decisioni che avessero carattere di urgenza e necessità.
Ma i principi ispiratori della Costituzione non sono i medesimi che ispirano gli agenti politici e le libertà civili, politiche e sociali risultano essere costantemente minacciate.
➡️ Col NUOVO PIANO PANDEMICO, la cui bozza è stata anticipata sul quotidiano Sanità, ci riprovano.
L'OMS è certa che un nuovo virus sia pronto a minacciare la nostra sopravvivenza e gli Stati prescrivono gli strumenti per fronteggiarla o, almeno, così la raccontano.
Ricordiamo che la fondazione di Bill e Melinda Gates, che si occupa in modo peculiare di vaccini, è il primo finanziatore dell'Oms. E Bill Gates questa settimana ha fatto visita a palazzo Chigi.
SI STABILISCE CHE:
1. In caso di pandemie i vaccini sono le misure di prevenzione più efficaci (così, a prescindere dai virus e dai vaccini neanche studiati);
2. Può diventare necessario imporre limitazioni alle libertà dei singoli individui al fine di tutelare la salute della collettività.
RESTRIZIONI, TRACCIAMENTI E VACCINI SONO ANCORA LE PAROLE D'ORDINE.
Nessun accenno al diritto dei pazienti ad essere visitati e curati (ma al diritto dei sanitari di essere tutelati, sì), alla ricerca di Stato su farmaci ed eventuali vaccini, all'organizzazione della sanità territoriale.
A dimostrazione, semmai ce ne fosse bisogno, che la salute è un pretesto e uno strumento per imporre scelte politiche e soddisfare gli interessi dei più grandi capitalisti mondiali.
Nessuna distinzione sussiste tra i diversi schieramenti politici: la mangiatoia e i padroni sono gli stessi.
Difatti, il ministro della Salute del governo Meloni, Orazio Schillaci,
nel 2020, in piena era Covid, era stato nominato da Speranza come tecnico all'ISS.
Fiorangela
Giorgio Bianchi
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s-a-f-e-w-o-r-d--2 · 10 months
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E mentre mi rivesto penso che non dovrei farlo... Che dovrei restare li... Nuda... A farmi accarezzare... A farmi amare... E invece sono qui che raccolgo le mie cose e le indosso piano... Tu sei già pronto... Hai già le chiavi in mano... lo tutta sta fretta non me la meritavo... Ho ancora un altro bacio che mi esce dalla bocca... Ho ancora un sospiro tra le mani che ti tocca... Fingo indifferenza ma dentro sto morendo... Chiedo solo un abbraccio... Poi lo giuro mi rivesto.... Chiedo solo una carezza... poi me ne andrò in fretta... Chiedo solo un occasione... Per sentirmi addosso il tuo amore...
~ Virginia ~
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sonopietroilcane · 5 months
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Pronto per il mio primo piano 😈
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will wood is the reason why i'm studying psychology. will wood is the reason the catcher in the rye is one of my favorite books. will wood is the reason i'm learning piano. will wood is the reason why i act and speak the way i do. i need help at this point my entire identity has been built around my admiration for this one specific musician. i don't know who i am anymore it's entirely will wood. i've become my greatest fear: someone who's whole personality is that they listen to will wood. admitting myself to the psych ward pronto
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oconnormusicstudio · 1 year
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Billy Connolly and the William Tell Overture
  Today, we’ll be listening to the end of the William Tell Overture by Gioachino Rossini.  This piece, originally the overture to an opera, has been arranged for piano and is in several method books, including Piano Pronto Movements 1 and 2.  It’s also in Bastien Book 4 and Piano Maestro. The original story Maybe your grandparents watched the original Lone Ranger Or you saw the newer Lone…
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PRIMA PAGINA La Nazione di Oggi lunedì, 09 settembre 2024
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ilpianistasultetto · 6 months
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Drinnn-drinnn-drinnn... guardo il cell, 02 ecc..ecc..e' il prefisso di Milano, mi dico. Sara' mia figlia che chiama da casa di qualche suo amico.
-pronto!
- buongiorno sig. Roberto, sono Giuseppe dell'agenzia immobiliare di Milano. Ci siamo sentiti qualche mese fa per la sua casa di NoLo. Allora, ha deciso di venderla?
Io cado dalle nuvole, credevo di aver detto chiaro e tondo che non avevo nessuna intenzione di vendere, visto che ho acquistato quella casa da poco tempo..
- No, guardi, ci deve essere un equivoco..
- Ma non le interesserebbe prendere una casa piu' grande? Guardi, ne abbiamo una in via Marco Aurelio, a 100metri da casa sua. Un vero affare, da non perdere. Un bel primo piano di 100mq a soli 500mila euro. Sa, sig. Roberto, occasioni cosi non capitano tutti i giorni. Anzi, forse non le capiteranno mai piu'. Una casa cosi' non si prende per meno di 800mila euro.
Io: scusi, sig. Giuseppe, i 100mq delle agenzie immobiliari li conosco bene, saranno 80 a malapena. E poi, con tanti "cummenda" che sono a Milano, "l'affare del secolo" lo propone a un terrone romano come me? E poi ancora, se e' l'occasione della vita, perche' non la ferma lei e poi la rivende mettendosi in tasca bigliettoni e bigliettoni di plusvalenza come il duo LaRussa- Santanche' con villa Alberoni?
Ho riattaccato senza nemmeno salutare..
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luluemarlene · 10 months
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L'attesa
La tortura peggiore è quando arriva e posa il suo sguardo su di me.
Si abbassa leggermente e mi annusa tra le natiche , senza sfiorarmi.
Resto in attesa, immobile, con le mani giunte dietro la schiena.
La bocca leggermente aperta già piena di saliva , la speranza di un bacio che nn arriva quasi mai.
I battiti del cuore aumentano e gli orifizi si preparano, si infracicano di umori, si allargano e contraggono quasi a respirare...
È un dolore mentale che si propaga nei capezzoli troppo turgidi, nelle ginocchia sul pavimento.
È peggiore di uno ordine schifoso da eseguire.
Peggiore di qualunque schiaffo o corda che segni il corpo.
Non c'è qualcosa che non sarei pronta a  concedere quando sono in attesa .
Ne è così consapevole che trasuda e puzza di presunzione.
Mentre annuso l'aria lui si siede e guarda.
Cerco di capire se c'è un'erezione.
Mi farebbe sentire desiderata e appagata, ma non vedo niente.
Lui accavalla le gambe e aspetta che la mia resa sia completa.
Tira fuori un imbuto e sorride.
Mi chiede di abbassare la testa, di restare col culo in aria, esposto e a disposizione
Lo guardo senza parlare e sa che prima dell'abuso ho bisogno di un cenno di tenerezza
Si avvicina e mi lecca la bocca come farebbe un cane, passa la sua lingua tra le mie labbra, mi accarezza la testa,
Si alza in piedi e mi schiaccia la faccia contro il cazzo ancora al sicuro nei suoi pantaloni
È duro ed io so che quell'erezione è mia. Solo mia.
Sa che sono pronta
Fa pressione sulla mia nuca e mi ritrovo a culo all'aria
Accarezza il mio culo, lo bacia, infila la lingua e lubrifica quel buco che lo accoglie, pronto
Dio vorrei venire o pisciare e liberarmi di quella eccitazione, quasi dolorosa!
Ci sputa sopra e infila piano l'imbuto giallo, lo spinge fino alla base
Sento la cerniera abbassarsi, lentamente
Mi dice che sono sua, solo sua e che deve lavare via le mie insicurezze, cancellare le mie incertezze
Farmi sentire piena di lui.
Inizia a pisciarmi dentro..
Mi scalda lentamente e mi da il permesso di masturbarmi
Non ho il tempo di toccarmi il clitoride che il mio orgasmo esplode e liquido vischioso mi cola tra le cosce
Libera il mio culo dalla plastica e ci affonda il cazzo, che entra senza nessuna resistenza
Entra ed esce a ritmo regolare, poi sempre più forte, mischiando tt i nostri umori, lo sento grugnire e arrivare all'apice.
Quando gode mi sussurra che sono il suo pisciatoio, il suo sborratoio
"Non c'è niente che un uomo potrebbe desiderare di avere a parte questo e io ce l'ho"
Non mi sono mai sentita tanto sua.
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angelap3 · 5 months
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“Ti presterò un cane, te lo presterò per un tempo già stabilito ” mi sussurò una voce.
Lo amerai in vita e piangerai la sua morte.
Resterà con te per 12 o 14 anni , forse per molto più o forse per molto meno.
Lo farai? Ti prenderai cura di lui finchè non tornerò a prenderlo?
Farà cose che ti lasceranno a bocca aperta e del tempo che resterà con te si riempiranno i ricordi che alleggeriranno la sua perdita, quando sarà.
Non potrà rimanere per sempre perchè tutto cio che è terrestre è destinato a finire.
Ci sono lezioni che voglio che impari questo cane e per questo ho cercato in tutto il mondo un maestro per lui, ho scelto te.
Ripagherai il mio sforzo donandogli tutto il tuo amore?
Sarai in grado di non odiare la vita e il mondo intero quando me lo verrò a riprendere?
Risposi:
Si, sono pronto e saprò amarlo , la gioia e la tenerezza di cui mi riempirà la vita saranno in grado di colmare il dolore della perdita
quando lo vorrai di nuovo con te , di questo sempre gli sarò grato.
Spero che tu venga molto tardi, ma quando sarà, saprò capire.
Se attraverso il mio amore sarò riuscito a soddisfare il tuo piano per lui, allora aiutami ad essere forte quando piangerò mentre lo porti via.
E ricordandolo capirò che quello che ha imparato da qualcuno, sono io…
Dedicato a tutte le persone a cui lo stai venendo a prendere.
"Se passate del tempo con gli animali, correte il rischio di diventare una persona migliore"
Oscar Wilde.
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