The Music Lesson - a story

It was strange perhaps, that she was never asked to actually play the instrument during any of her lessons. He simply had her sit and hold it, head bent, arms poised. He said that without understanding the space the instrument took up against her body, she would never be able to be a master of it.

He would command her to sit in front of him, and open her legs, and he would slowly place the cello in front of her, nestling it closer to her body until he was satisfied. Sometimes his hands would part her thighs wider, if he felt she was not listening to his verbal instruction. He would move her neck until it slanted correctly, and his fingers would hover above hers near the tuning handles. He would ask her to hold such a position, for what seemed to her like hours. Never uttering one word, only looking at her with eyes that became increasingly uncomfortable in their attention. If she asked to play a note, he would simply say, 'Not just yet, not just yet. The position needs to be right first.'

For five weeks now, she had come to his apartment; a cluttered space on the top floor of an old house. She had never once seen any of his other pupils. She would carry her cello up the endless steps, the small of her back always pricking with sweat drops by the time she reached his front door. She wanted so badly to start to play, to really learn the notes of this grand instrument. She trusted that she would after the first week, but now, as the weeks dragged on she became more and more uncertain ... She was almost not going to come today, because surely this wasn't normal? She decided to give him one last chance, after all she had paid up front for the first 10 classes so she would feel foolish to ask for a refund.

Upon opening the door to the music study, and calling out to alert him of her presence, she was surprised that he did not advance to greet her as he usually did. Instead, his back was to her as she made her way across the room. His hair was dishevelled and he made it more so by running his long fingers through it repeatedly as he stared out of the sash windows.

'Hello there', she said again, hoping for the awkwardness to cease, but still he didn't turn to face her. Instead he said sharply,

'Sit down on your chair and open your legs as we've practised.'

She startled - he had never addressed her so brashly before. She moved towards the seat, and nervously started to take her coat off.

'No need to do that, leave it on, just sit down on the chair and open your legs like I asked you', his tone was harsher now and whilst she wanted to feel anger at being spoken to in that manner, there was something about his manner that made her a little afraid to speak out.

'I want to try something a little different today. Something that I think we might both enjoy', he said as he slowly turned around to face her, a smile spreading across his face.

With that he stood and moved across the room to a large cabinet at the side of the room. 'You trust me, don't you?' It was said more as a statement than a question.

'Well, yes, I suppose so. I've never really thought about it.' She watched as turned towards her a large decanter in each hand.

'Good. Please drink this, it's brandy, actually a very good brandy, it will help you express yourself.'

He handed her one of the glasses, sipping from the other as he did. Taken aback she raised the glass and breathed in the warm fumes rising from the amber liquid. Well at least she'd got a drink for her money she thought as she drank.

He watched her drink, sipping from his own glass as he did, a wry smile on his lips. She found this change in approach unsettling but drank all the same. A silence settled on the room.

As she reached the end of her brandy he crossed the room with the bottle and poured another very full measure. More used to wine she found the dark scented spirit strong but very pleasant and she relaxed into the chair.

He moved behind her. 'You need to understand what it is to be the cello; to
understand its longing to be released in order to express its innermost feelings.'
A grey veil appeared in front of her eyes. 'Trust me.' She felt his hands tie the material behind her head. Nothing else changed, she remained sitting, her almost empty glass still in her hand. 'I will show you.'

Transfixed, she thought about protesting, the cheek of him, blindfolding her without asking, but she remained silent and still. She was captivated by his nerve, by the thought of what might happen next.

His hands moved under the soft brown tresses of hair and caressed her neck. His long, thin fingers moving in time with one another and the pulse of heart. Unable to see she found her remaining senses heightened; the taste of the brandy, the sound of his breathing, and the oh so delectable touch of his
hands on her shoulders and neck.

He moved his head down until his mouth brushed fleetingly against the soft downy hairs in the nape of her neck which stood erect as his lips moved lightly over them. One hand continued to massage her neck whilst the other moved under her the front of her coat and began to seek out the buttons of her
blouse. She felt butterflies in her stomach, a nervousness suffused with a growing excitement.

She squirmed slightly in the chair, her legs still apart and a now empty glass clutched in her hand. She let her head fall gently forward, wanting to feel the touch of his mouth against her nape more fully. Her stomach squirmed and clenched causing her breathing to quicken. Her fingertips felt strangely warm, a tingling shooting down them from her collar bone and out through the ends of her trimmed, neat nails. Blindfolded, all her senses seemed acutely awakened.

The smell of his presence and of the old music sheets that lay untouched on the floor; the silence of the room; the strange exciting terror that she felt rising within her. She sensed with shock, that she was getting wet between her legs and that her silkyness was sticking the silk of her knickers against her lips.

Closing her eyes behind the veil, she focused her mind on the feel of his breath. It was on her vertebrae, moving now on to the tip of her ear. Now his nose seemed to seek her out, breathing her in and nestling against the start of her jawline. She could feel him pressing himself more firmly against her cheek as she leaned into the kisses he was planting. She felt her body melt and weaken. She knew she shouldn't and she started to try and cry out inside her head - she must tell him to stop! What the hell did he think he was doing? How dare he touch her like this?

As she opened her mouth to protest, his thumb found its way onto her tongue and gently silenced it.

He cupped her face with one hand now, and with his thumb still in her mouth, gently moved it in and out, gliding over her spit and running the first knuckle behind her front teeth. She groaned in pleasure and started to, despite herself, suck down on his thumb and run her tongue around it. She moved against him, in the way she would like to if it were his cock instead of his thumb that had forced its way into her. She sucked hard at the base and then gently lightened her touch as she nibbled the tip of his nail.

His right hand had now managed to unbutton her blouse completely, and was earnestly seeking out her breasts. She wore a simple black bra, with a tiny neat pink bow at the front and she worried suddenly that it wasn't sexy enough for this kind of meeting. That she wasn't ready for him to unfasten it and leave her sitting there naked. He glided his fingertips over her bony collar bones and rested them in the dip at the base of her neck. Taking his wet thumb out from her mouth, he ran it down her breastbone, marking a wet trail along her skin, along the curves of her breasts that rose steadily with her breath.

His mouth moaned against her and his movements became faster and more clumsy. Trapping her thighs open with his leg, he pulled her blouse off her shoulders. She sat there, quivering in her just bra, her lips wet, her coat on the floor and her legs trembling. Every hair on her body was standing on end.
She wanted so badly to kiss him, to fuse herself against him and to wrap her spread legs around something other than her abandoned cello... 'Please, please just do it', she whispered almost inaudibly.

His movements slowed, his mouth became more playful and the urgency he'd previously expressed subsided. 'Not yet, you need to learn to slow the tempo down.'

One hand gently cupped her breast through her bra, whilst the other, the one with the wet thumb, traced a slow tantalising path down her body. It moved down her sternum, and across her belly, tracing small delicious circles as it did, before coming to rest at the top of her small, black panties. Her mind was in turmoil. The restriction of her sight continued to intensify the sensations her other senses were providing her.

As his hand paused his mouth moved along her jawbone, imparting little kisses as it did. It stopped in the crook of her neck and his tongue, lips and teeth began to play with her ear lobe; sucking and nibbling. She felt his fingers move again, over the silk of her knickers. They moved in concert down either side of her pussy whilst his thumb drew slow, ever decreasing circles over her clit. She was on the verge of being overwhelmed.

With what little vestiges of self control that remained to her she reached out blindly to his groin and began to stroke him through his trousers. She could feel his hardness, his desire. As her hand moved over him she felt his cock pulse through the fabric of his clothes.

'He wants me!' she thought, exultant at the idea.

She began to increase the pressure of her hand. His mouth paused its assault on her ear but his hand on her knickers continued to move. She reached out with her other hand, fumbling blindly, her goal known but unseen. His belt and trousers were no barrier. She felt him all the more through the thin material of his briefs. She slipped a hand beneath the thin fabric that covered him and firmly grasped his hot, erect cock. He gasped.

His movements against her body stopped.

She felt outside herself. Her mind filling in that which she could not see. She sensed his need - it matched her own.

'Come inside me. Now.' It wasn't a request, question or statement. It transcended all of that.

His hands moved to grip her on the shoulders; tightly, painfully. She felt herself raised off the chair but then falling forwards. She panicked. But his arms still held her tight and then she stopped moving. Was he under her, was he on the floor? Then she felt, but couldn't see, his body beneath her, her legs were astride him. She realised. She understood. He was hers, he was her instrument now.

A hand, his hand, moved her panties aside. She felt his warm cock move to
her, move between her warm, welcoming lips, placing itself at her whim, at her command.

With a soft moan she wrapped her fingers around the base of his cock, feeling the softness of his pubic hair rest against the back of her hand, and guided him into her sex. The ridge of his head stretched her for a split second, making her cry out, before he glided deep into her. So deep that she drew a sharp intake of breath as he made the final push. Her cunt was wet with the clear honey that was made from deep within her, and spilled out around the sides of his shaft and onto her coat that lay beneath them.

He was so deep that a rich, dark heat exploded inside her that made her cry out in pain and pleasure; she wasn't sure she was able to take that much flesh inside her. She'd never experienced this before. She felt the full weight of him pressed against her, and in her. She moaned in pleasure, enjoying the crush of him against her delicate ribs. Shivers passed through her body as she raised her mouth searching for his.

The lips of her glowing sex began to enclose around his flesh, tightly. She bore down with her muscles against him, so that she ensnared him even tighter. She worked herself against his cock, rocking and relaxing her strength along the full length of him until she could feel him twitch and pulse inside her, joining her rhythm and movements.

The rest of their bodies had become completely still; the only movement and grinding lay between their legs. His forceful lifts and twitches inside her; her powerful clenches against him. They moved like this, almost lost in time, sweat building between them so that everything became soaked with their desire.
She felt the tension building in her body. The spinning of her head, as though she was on a merry-go-round at full speed and the world flashed before her closed eyes.

Dizzy she fought for focus beneath the blind, but the pleasure between her legs was so overwhelming she lost the battle. She felt her sex force itself open to the widest she had ever known. It was burning with heat and pleasure. It felt like
she might tear apart, split open at the seams.

As she opened ready to bring about her orgasm, the release she so desperately wanted, he suddenly pulled out and she screamed out in shock,

'NO! Fuck! No! I'm not done!' She almost wept she was so frustrated.

She felt him leave and as he did so she made a grab for him in the dark. She felt him pin her arms back down to the floor and heard him pant, 'Don't move'.

She lay there, shaking, every muscle in extreme tension, on the verge of the most explosive of orgasms. She squirmed and ached for him, where was he? What had he left her?

Suddenly she felt him part the opening of her sex with his fingers with some force. Though she was blinded, she felt him looking with pleasure at the delicate pink lips that were flushing darker under his gaze, expanding once more under his touch. The hole of her cunt was still open from the sex they had
just had, and dripped a silky trail.

His tongue found its way inside her, darting and determined. Licking out her wetness and teasing her tired muscles, he built her back up to the dizzying heights she found herself at when he was fully inside her. This time she made love against his mouth, taking in this part of his flesh. Her swollen clit jumped and started at his touch, retracting when he engulfed it with his full mouth, and then standing out again when his lips left it. He started to hum against her, a buzz that seemed to fill her whole body. This was too much.

She arched her back away from the floor, and spread her legs wide, lost to the humming music he played against her sex, almost drunk with confusion and pleasure. She could hold it no longer, through one powerful long suck of his against her that took in her whole sex in one motion, she felt a rush of hot liquid spill from her. She panicked, assuming she had wet herself, only she knew the liquid was from another place. Somewhere deep inside her.

He pushed his long fingers up and inside her as the first of the liquid spilled, curling them as he did so, making more squirt out against his hand. Again and again she poured out against him, flooding his hand entirely.

He cried out in pleasure at seeing her spill herself against him in this way. He forced his cock inside her one last time to rest himself in this salty sea of liquid that spurted out of her with each contraction. Joining her in her ecstasy he let himself release into her; a deep final release that took all tension and sadness out of him, and left it drowning amid the waters of their pleasure.

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