Eroti-ca-lis-tic crescendo in silence

The soothing melodies of Bruckner's Sixth Symphony play, but the air is thick with unspoken desires. A lone violinist, her eyes closed, subtly parts her legs under her skirt, fingers brushing against her inner thigh. The conductor, unaware, leads the orchestra through the first movement's exposition, his baton a silent phallus. The music swells, and so does her pulse, fingers now tracing the lace of her panties, wet with anticipation.

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