The Delightful Diva

“O, beloved Harmony!” you murmur, stepping forward to run your fingers through her crimson curls, “now that I have recovered my memory, I recall that I have long desired you from afar. In my room in the Imperial Palace on Riadorf, I have a holo-poster of you upon the ceiling, and many is the night that I have reclined amongst my pillows and gently caressed my most tender flesh whilst gazing upon your serene indigo beauty and listening to recordings of your astonishing voice on holo-tape.”

“O, Princess!” the lazuline diva murmurs, swooning.

Swiftly, you step forward to catch her in your arms, and as you hold her tenderly, her mouth forms a beautiful O, and she sings in her clear, high voice:

La mia pelle è blu
Potete notare che è blu
Come cosa molto blu e blu.
Qualche gente dice
È verde, ma
Sono errati. È blu!

Overcome by her mysterious – yet lovely – utterance, you bend to press Harmony’s mouth with your own, shifting one hand so that you might stroke her ample breasts. The singer thrusts her nubile tongue into your mouth, and you moan deeply as you suckle on her muscular appendage.

Caroline coughs, loudly. “Should I leave you two alone?” she hints.

“Mph,” Harmony responds. And then, when you have released her mouth, she says, more clearly, “no, please stay! I always perform best for an audience.”

“Perform?” you ask. “Will you be singing further, my sonorous sweetheart?”

“No,” the flame-haired songstress replies, lowering her lashes seductively. “My mouth will be otherwise occupied.”

You shiver with delight at her words, and when she puts her hands to the fastenings of your space-pyjamas, you eagerly step free of the somewhat confining, yet mostly comfortable, garment. In under a space-minute, the harmonic siren has divested herself of her own garments, baring all of her azure skin to your avid gaze.

Her abundant curves are even more alluring, now that there is no fabric interposed between them and your line of sight. Swiftly, you step forward and cup her full breasts in your hands, lowering your head to lave the blushing tips. Harmony moans in appreciation, and slips one delicate blue hand between your thighs. As you swirl your tongue around her rosy peaks, she slides one slender digit into your feminine passage, stroking your love-button with a dexterous thumb.

Within moments, you are too overwhelmed to continue your moistening of Harmony’s bosoms, and can only lean against her, panting, as she plays your body as though it were an instrument, and she was a musician instead of a singer. Soon, you are singing out your climax, as enthusiastically as Harmony sung her aria to you such a short time ago, but rather less impressively, since you are tone-deaf. Still, the experience is beautiful in its own way!

After what seems an eternity of basking in sensation, you are brought back to your surroundings by the sound of Caroline’s spirited applause. You long to continue, giving Harmony the same pleasure that she has bestowed upon you, but you feel as weak as a vartalian star-kitten.

“Lovely songstress,” you opine, “I long to give you the same pleasure that you have bestowed upon me, but at the moment I must confess that I feel as weak as a vartalian star-kitten.”

“Shh,” the diva comforts, pressing her fingers to your lips. “There is always tomorrow. Or later this evening. Now that my muse has returned to me, I wish to write some songs, in any case. Feel free to come back to me just as soon as you feel refreshed, and we shall perform another…duet.”

Languidly, you dress once more in your space-pyjamas, and step out into the hall. But the corridor is not empty! It is occupied by a tall, broad-shouldered man, whose pale skin is set off by his dark, curling hair, his dark, tidy goatee, his dark, silken eyepatch and his dark, smouldering eye.

“Thank Proet!” he says fervently. “There’s no time to explain! Come with me at once!”

A strange and officious command! Will you obey?

1) Certainly not! You are a princess! People obey YOU.

2) Curious about what could possibly be so important, you follow him.

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