It’s 8 PM and my last student is out the door.
My husband and I are both musicians. He plays with a band three or four nights a week, and I give piano lessons here in our house. Music has been good to us, and good for us. We enjoy the esthetics of the art; and we’ve been fortunate enough to be able to make a comfortable living doing what we like to do. Our life styles and our passions have resonated well together.
It is Friday evening. And like most Fridays, Jim is out playing his horn at a dance. Generally it’s a wedding – or sometimes two – on a Saturday. Fridays are often proms or reunions, or company awards banquets, or some sort of formal event.
I’m not convinced that Jim has seen the pattern. Almost every Friday Jim comes home all sexed up and ready to rock. I think that his spending the entire night watching women who are all dressed up and looking good gets his juices flowing.
I can’t say that I’m disappointed with his behavior. It’s nice to be wanted. I’ve always tried to look good for Jim. He sees women looking their best at his gigs. When he comes home, I want him to like what he sees.
I turn 38 years old next month. I’m satisfied with what I see when I look in the mirror. I should. I work hard at my appearance. Daily exercising has kept my body well toned. My double D tits are starting to sag a bit, but they still point straight ahead. When they begin to point at my toes, I’ll investigate a boob job. Until then, everything is all natural!
“Good night, Tom. I’ll see you next week at the same time. And work on that Bach etude,” I said as he left. Closing the door behind him with my left hand, I began unbuttoning my shirt with my right.
My Friday night routine was well rehearsed. I would get out of my clothes and into a comfortable robe. Snack on a bowl of Cheerios while watching an hour of television, then shower and get ready for Jim’s arrival.
The comfortable robe was selected by season. In the winter, I usually elected to cuddle up in a plush red robe that fell to my ankles. Tonight, though was a delightful spring evening, warm and inviting. I elect to wear only a silk kimono with a hem about half way up the thigh. The silk against my otherwise nude body is enticing. As the silk rubs across my nipples, they stand up like brand new pencil erasers.
The ringing of the front door bell startled me, and I spilled some of the Cheerios as they streamed izmit rus escort into my bowl.
“Who could that be?” I wondered aloud and headed for the door. Pulling the lace curtain back from the window, I saw Tom with a sheepish look on his face. I opened the door a bit.
“Sorry to bother you, Mrs. Silva, but I can’t locate my car keys. I’m hoping I dropped them in here at the piano bench.”
“Come in, Tom, and let’s have a look around.”
Tom has been my student for over ten years. He started as Tommy. Now he is in his second year at the community college. Sometimes I forget just how grown he is.
As he entered through the door, I very distinctly noted his gaze drinking in my exposed cleavage.
I led the way to the piano studio. I could feel his eyes burning into my ass as he followed. Yes, he certainly has grown up.
I opened the French doors to the studio and stood back as Tom brushed past me. We stood in the relative dark for a moment.
“Let me get the light,” I said.
I reached up to pull the chain on the overhead ceiling fan light. As the light snapped on, I realized that my reaching up pulled the hem of my robe up enough to allow my ass to peek out. I distinctly heard a low moan from Tom’s throat.
It is time to make a decision. Right now. Either recover and be the respectable teacher, or continue with the scenario and try a bit of seduction. I’ve never before cheated on Jim, so maybe this once is forgiveable.
I can feel adrenaline start to flow. My breathing is becoming slightly more rapid, my pulse is increasing, and I’m amazed to acknowledge that I can feel my pussy becoming moist with desire. Decision made. Tonight Tom gets to play a new chord.
“Where do you think you may have lost your keys?” I ask.
“Not sure. Perhaps around the piano bench somewhere.”
Tom drops to his hands and knees and looks around on the floor. I approach him as close as I can, knowing that the view up my kimono is a tempting treat for him.
“See anything?” I ask.
The silence is a little uncomfortable.
“Tom?”
“Well, I don’t see the keys, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Let me help.”
I drop to my hands and knees with him and we crawl around under the piano for a bit. With each movement, the robe parts slightly, exposing more and more of my breasts. Soon, the right breast is completely exposed.
“I izmit escort don’t see the keys, Tom”
I begin to stand. My thought is to leave the one breast exposed and see how Tom reacts. But things moved along a bit more quickly. As I stand upright, the silk cord on my kimono becomes entangled on the foot pedal of the baby grand piano. By the time I stand completely, my robe is open. My breasts are standing out, and my carefully trimmed pussy is glistening in its own dampness.
Tom sits up on his knees, drinking in the view.
I move directly in front of him, pushing my pussy into his face, and enthusiastically placing his hands on my ass.
“Lick me, eat me!”
Tom obeyed. With eagerness.
I can feel the juices flow within me. As Tom explores all the folds and crevices with his tongue, I push hard against his face and force the hot blood to circulate harder and faster all around my ass, my thighs, and my pussy. I can feel the crescendo of fire and juice. I sit on the edge of the bench, arch my back to thrust out my wet sex, and anticipate the explosion.
And explode I do. I lay there, clutching the bench, gasping for breath and feeling my love juices sear my thighs. In all my thirty-eight years, I have never felt a climax as complete and as shattering as this one.
As I continue to drink in the experience, I hear Tom’s belt and jeans hit the floor. At the same time, I feel my ankles grasped and my legs lifted into the air, parting my thighs as they rose.
And then Tom’s shaft is inside of me, gliding a deep rhythm in my well-lubricated love tunnel. Slowly, the rhythm takes over my body, and I join in the thrusting.
His excited steel rocks inside me. I feel a secondary rhythm as his blood pulsed in his ever-hardening cock. My own blood heats and circulates at its private excited rate as my pussy walls contract and relax, gnashing hungrily at Tom’s invasion with yet another rhythm.
The stimulating syncopation is the ultimate in sexuality. Simultaneously, Tom’s nozzle uncorks more white-hot steaming fluid than I would have believed possible from one pair of balls.And my clit releases a shuddering, shivering climax in my vagina and the surrounding muscles that change the concept of finale for me forever.
Tom now stands, withdrawing his spent tool. Slowly, he raises me up to the sitting position and puts his arm around me. Nuzzling his lips kocaeli escort against my neck he speaks.
“You taught me if that if two notes resonate, the resulting chord is a pleasant sensation. I think our notes resonated.”
I moaned in agreement, still sensing the ebbing resonation.
“Next week, my teacher, we’ll try something different. You’ll eat me. Then we’ll make more music.
“Next week?”
I need to regain control here.
I reach down to his equipment. Slowly stroking him, I feel him gradually respond to my overtures.
With Tom standing now, I slip to my knees and suck his balls into my mouth, turning them over each other with my busy tongue. I slide my hand back and forth along his hardening cock while my mouth plays its harmony.
I taste a mixture of him and me on his balls. It is an erotic taste with a strange sense of accomplishment blended with a sense of anticipation.
I keep Tom standing there and resume my seat on the piano bench. His stiff cock aligns right to my cleavage. I reach around Tom and pulled him towards me. Then, reaching up, I cup my tits in my hands and squeeze them around his surprised cock. I rock his world for him.
Soon, I replace my left hand with his right hand. I hold one tit, he the other. I continue to fuck his cock with my deep cleavage.
With my free hand, I grasp his ass and pulled him closer and closer. Slowly, I trace the rim of his hole with my finger.
The effect is immediate. He shoots a second steaming load all over my tits. I rub the hot liquid into my skin, pausing occasionally to lick a puddle off his dick. I lock my eyes on his, smiling.
No doubt, I have regained control. But also no doubt, I have control of a situation that is foreign to me. Where am I to take this?
“Next week, Tom, you will respond to my composition. I will sit on your face and you will eat me until I am satisfied. And then I will take out your metronome and push it inside of me. I will ride it with my rhythms, my music, until I feel my whole world resonate.”
“Time for you to go now.”
I watch as Tom pulls on his jeans, buckles his belt, plunges his had into his right front pocket and extracts his keys.
I kiss him good night.
I return to the kitchen, grab a broom to sweep up some runaway Cheerios, and Jim bounds in the back door.
Right there, he lifts me up, places me on my back on the kitchen floor, pauses for a moment to nibble on a nipple, and then plunges his cock deep into me.
“I feel very welcome in there tonight, ” says Jim. “You’re wet and ready. Been thinking about me?”
“Make me resonate. Please make me resonate.”