My name is Karen - I am writing a story which is loosely based on my actual experiences as a young woman.  Some is artistic license - so is fact - it doesn't matter now where the line is.  So here is my story......  enjoy...

Overture:The “Fidelio” Overture

Locked in adungeon of desire and expectation, I grope in the darkness through life.  Where can I find a light?  Is denial of my essence theanswer?  Do I pretend like so manyothers that I am not who I am?  DoI give myself over completely to my desires and needs and drown myself inthem?  How do I find abalance.  O welche lust – burstthrough my prison window, release me, give me guidance.  The moisture engulfs my body, settingit ablaze.  I find momentaryrespite.  Where will I find thelight?

It is 1973.  I am 23 years old.  For the first 10 years of my life withmy parents was difficult.  Myfather was alcoholic and abusive; my mother was repressed and servile.  An only child, I escaped to anindependent life filled with fantasy – knights and ladies and dragons andmagic.  But it all changed in 1960when my mother and I moved into a rural community with George.  George was my mother’s lover, protectorand dominant.  The community was agroup of like-minded young people from all over the country.  There were probably 20 families, and anumber of children.  I was 11.  My new life was the exact opposite ofmy former.  I went from havingbarely 2 parents, to having 20; I went from being an only child to having moresiblings than I could count.  Iwent from a life of rigidity and repression and alcohol to a life of freedomand openness and love.  When thecommune closed in 1968 we all made a pact to stay in touch and to maintain ourspecial bond and life-style on the outside.  Of course it would be different, we would need to be morediscreet.  A pin was fashioned byone of the artists for all of us to wear. If we met someone wearing the pin we would recognize this person as afellow traveler, one with whom one could share the openness and freedom of thelost life.

And so I journeythrough my life.  I have become asinger.  I want to perform.  I love to perform.  Performance is my path towards thelight.

Episode#1 – The Call

February.  The phone rings.

I awake with astart.  The phone again.  I begin to reach for it knocking overmy lamp and other items on my bed stand fall to the floor.  The phone again.  “Hello” I croak.  I look at the clock – 10:47 in themorning.

An accented voiceon the other end asks, “May I speak to Abigail Saunders?”

“Yes, hi, that’sme.”

“Good morning Ms.Saunders.  My name is EduardoVillazon, I am the director of the National Opera of Caracas.”

I was now awake,he had my attention.  I lookedaround, I was alone.  I felt thecold of the air on my naked shoulders. I pull myself up in bed.

“Ms. Saunders,your name was given to us by Maestra Victoria Fiorelli.  We have a sudden opening for a sopranoin our young artist company and we were wondering if you would be interested.”

I am stunned.  “Ah, yes, absolutely.”  I am thrilled.  “Please tell me more.”

“Well, our youngartists form the core of the chorus, but will have the opportunity to auditionfor supporting roles and will also participate in classes, coaching and masterclasses.  It would mean you wouldneed to move to Caracas, Venezuala almost immediately.  But we will provide your housing andalso pay you a salary.”

Pay to sing!  My dream come true.  Most of the time I sing for“experience!”  “I am really…. Wow,yes, I am definitely interested.” By now I was sitting on the edge of the bed.  The covers had fallen off of me.  I was ignoring the cold, though my nipples were not.

“Wonderful, now wewill need you to audition.  But itis only a formality.  Today isMonday, can you get to New York by Wednesday in order to sing for us and atthat time we will draw up the contract and give you the specifics.”

Wednesday?!?  Hmmm, what was I doing.  I just closed a production of “LaTraviata.”  I was in the chorus, ofcourse.  In fact last night was thecast party.  Wednesday?  Nothing except waitressing.  “Yes, fine.”

“Wonderful.  I can hear you at 2:00 on Wednesday.  Do you have a pencil?  I will give you the address and a phonenumber in case you need it.”

“Great!  Ahh… hold on I need to find apencil.”  I look around my bedstand.  Nothing,  I put the phone down, quickly I lookthrough the things that fell to the floor.  I pick up a vibrator. I look over at the bed.  Ihad brought home an orchestra member last night, but he literally came andwent.  I think he was married.   I smell it, smile and then dropit on my bed. 

I rummage aroundthe room.  Nothing.  I open my bedroom door and run out intothe living room.  Looking for apencil.

“Good morning Abi,hon.”  My step-sister Rachelgreeted me laughingly.  “You lookfresh this morning.”

“I need apencil.” 

Rachel hands methe pencil she is using at the kitchen table.

I grab the phoneextension in the kitchen. “Maestro, sorry.  Go ahead.”

“Ok, the AzuleHotel, 2213 34th Street at 2:00.   213-647-9999. Ask for me, Eduardo Villazon. I will look forward to seeing and hearing you on Wednesday.”

“Yes, thank you somuch for calling.  Goodbye.”

“Goodbye,” camethe response.

Rachel wasstanding next to me.  I hung up andlooked at her in amazement.  Then Iscreamed.  “I am going to SouthAmerica!”

Chapter 2 - To New York

I disembarked from my plane around 3:00 and as I exited the ramp I saw Charlie and Marge waving.  I felt excitement course through my body.  I had not seen them for some time.  But one of the nice things about our commune group is that we could drop in on each other at a moments notice and it was just like we had never been separated.  Charlie was a retired High School prinipal, and Marge had been a teacher.  They lived on Long Island so it was natural for me to call them when I knew I needed a place to stay in New York. Charlie had white hair but was still in pretty good shape.  Marge, was very skinny, short and a ball of fire.

"Hi..... so wonderful to see you.  Thanks so much for putting me up."  I gushed as we hugged.

Charlie took my baggage.  "Don't mention it.  But it is nice to see you, it has been a while."

"Look Charlie," said Marge, "She's wearing the pin!"  I blushed.  She took my chin and turned my head towards hers and gave me a deep kiss.  Any self-consciousness (of which there was not much anyway) melted away and I kissed her back.  Then I kissed Uncle Charlie.   He had dropped the bag and let has hand run over my back to my ass. "Good girl," he whispered loud enough for Marge to hear, "no underwear."  I blushed again.

"The blushing is cute dear." Said Marge as she took my hand and we walked together out of the airport.  Uncle Charlie led us to the deck for 4 hour parking.  Up the elevator, which we shared with another couple, much to our collective disappointment.

Then over to a stationwagon in the corner of the section.  He loaded my bags in the back then opened the front door.  "You will sit up here with us."  I smiled and prepared to get in.  "Wait, Abi."  He gently pushed me up against the car.  He and Marge stood together looking at me.  There was no one else around.

"You have grown a lot dear." Said Aunt Marge.  "No longer a little girl."

"Let's see...." said Uncle Charlie.

I knew what they wanted me to do.  I was embarrassed, but excited.  I blushed, but without hesitation reached down and slowly lifted my skirt above my waist, exposing the hairy light brown triangle that covered my pussy.  I stood exposing myself like that for a few moments.  They both took deep breaths and Aunt Marge stepped to me and gently ran her hands through my bush.

"Lovely," said Uncle Charlie eventually, "Let's go."

"Wait, I said" with mischief in my eyes.  "I want to see you two too."  I couldn't believe I had said that.  But what was good for the gander.... as they say..

Aunt Marge began to giggle and she unclasped her long skirt and let it fall to the ground.  She was beautiful.  Her hairy triangle was not as thick as mine, but was a dark brown.  As I gazed between her legs, I noticed Uncle Charlie unzipped and removing his cock.  I stepped to him and took it in my hand and gently squeezed it.  Then I ran my hands up Aunt Marge's legs and over her moist labia.  She smiled.  "Let's go," said Uncle Charlie.

Aunt Marge only scooped up her skirt and threw it in the back she sat in the passenger seat naked from the waist down.  Uncle Charlie also did nothing to hide his cock as he got behind the wheel with his cock dangling from his pants.  I was nestled in between and as I settled in I once more raised my skirt all the way up.  And there we sat together, exposed.  I put one hand on his cock and gently began to play with it.  With my other hand I nestled it between her legs and began to explore her pussy.  I opened my legs as well and allowed them both access, which they took advantage of.  This is how we drove home, talking of old times, feeling and being felt.  Every so often I would kiss Aunt Marge.

When we finally arrived at their home, we pulled in the garage and got out of the car.  "Ladies," said Uncle Charlie, "leave the clothes in the garage."  And with that both of us stripped off the remainder of our clothes.

"MMMMM Aunt Marge," I had forgotten how beautiful your breasts are," as I gently began to caress them.  She had large breasts, that now sagged quite a bit.  My breasts were much smaller.  I kissed her nipples and she smiled, "There will be time for that later dear."

By the time we got into the house Uncle Charlie had removed his clothing as well.  "I don't need to tell you Abi that we are nude at home."  

"Of course not, Uncle Charlie, I knew that.  We are too...." 

He led me up to a bedroom.  "Here you go."  Aunt Marge came behind with towels.  "Why don't you take a shower.  By the time you are through it will be time for dinner."

I kissed them both as I disappeared into the bathroom and turned on the shower........