Summary
The speaker recalls a relationship in which she receives music lessons.
Tags
[F4A] [Story] [Cunnilingus] [Fingering] [Masturbation] [Piano] [Bittersweet] [Writers’ Event 2022]
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Script
And then there was you.
You know, when I first started this journey of self-discovery, what I didn’t really understand at the time was that it wasn’t really about that – about me.
I thought it was, but even in my mind I was still framing it in the context of external things.
“Where did I fit in the world?… What have I been missing?… Who was I really?”
And so I sought out experiences, memories, people… but it was really you who showed me that we’ve all got our own trials to overcome – oftentimes completely alone.
I’m sure you remember the day I first reached out to you, or maybe for you it was just another afternoon.
Me? It was after my weekly rock climbing session that I’d been going to for a few months. I didn’t think it would be my thing, but it was all part of the “self-discovery” process. Equal parts terrifying and thrilling and I loved it.
But that’s not how we met.
I was on my way out of the gym when I saw it: a little unassuming flyer that somehow caught my eye. Maybe it was the stock clip art piano but I just had to take a look.
“Music Lessons.”
No, wait.
“Free Music Lessons.”
You had my immediate interest. The rest of the flyer was just your contact information which I quickly jammed into my phone for later.
Now, I actually did grow up playing piano. I wouldn’t have considered myself very good and stuck to mostly those choral, “churchy” songs, never really pushing myself to play the stuff I really wanted. I think I was afraid of never being able to meet my own expectations so I never tried.
Still, playing music was always a comfort when I was young.
And as an adult, I’ve always regretted never keeping up with it. College came and I never sat down in front of a piano again.
So, maybe a bit too eagerly, I got home and called your number.
I don’t know what I expected – maybe some old, retired concert performer looking for something to pass the time. But I still remember the moment your voice came through.
I wish I could describe it to you. Not what it sounds like, I know you know that – but how it makes me feel.
And so we set something up later on that week. Just a short hour-long session at the local music college practice rooms to see if we clicked. I couldn’t wait.
And then we met. My earlier assumptions about your age were completely off. You were about my age, maybe just a tad bit older. And it was obvious you’d dressed up a little for our meeting. If someone had called this a blind date, I wouldn’t have minded.
But anyways, you introduced yourself, told me you worked at the school’s music department, been teaching music so many years, and so on.
I think you were a little nervous, and honestly I was too. But not as much as I would’ve been when I first started this journey. Boldness begat boldness, and now here I was once again trying out something new.
That first session, we talked for some time about my piano-playing experience and you were delighted to hear I was a former musician who was coming back after years of absence. Your passion was so charming.
You let me sit down at the bench and show you what I remembered, if anything. I was kind of embarrassed, but once I started I could sort of recall the left hand parts of a couple pieces I used to play, or maybe a melody here or there on the right hand.
I was very surprised I could play anything at all.
When I was done, you asked me to sit up a little bit more and to remember to breathe. Not what I expected you to say. I didn’t even realize I was holding my breath as I played.
The rest of the session went pretty quickly. You corrected my form some more as I ran through some basic scales and chords and then our time was up. Well, we may have gone a little over an hour but I don’t think you noticed.
We scheduled a recurring session between us every two weeks, and you walked me out of the building where we parted ways. I got back to my car and realized I was feeling a little warm. Excited even.
It was just music lessons but it felt like there was something more. The second session couldn’t come soon enough.
Two weeks passed and we met again. You didn’t know this, but after our first meeting I actually bought a used keyboard so I could practice in between sessions. I wanted to impress you, yes, but I also just wanted to get better for me.
I forgot how much I used to enjoy just being able to sit down and play. To create something with my own hands. To practice and improve for my own sake.
And you noticed. We flew through your lesson plans for me that day faster than you expected, leaving us some time left over. I asked you to play something for me.
So we traded places and you sat down. I thought you’d play something familiar but instead you improvised.
And wow. You were really good.
And as you played, passing glances at me in between passages, I found myself slowly melting.
Now during this journey of mine, I’ve had plenty of trysts or flings or whatever you wanted to call them, but very rarely has someone really moved me like you did then.
And as you finished, I gave you a pleased little clap. You were smiling but I caught something else in your eyes which I couldn’t quite read at the time.
By the third session, we were in a groove and I felt comfortable asking you to help me learn a particular song I’d wanted to play since I was young.
I wouldn’t have guessed it was one of your favorite pieces as well.
So we printed out the sheet music and started.
I couldn’t help but notice you were much more, (clear throat), hands-on with your methods this time around. Small things like moving my hands yourself when they were in the wrong position. Small, but meaningful.
If I only knew.
But I was glad you were feeling a little more forward during this session. I couldn’t quite place it, but you’d seemed somewhat distant our first two times.
Still, every time our eyes met, I felt there was something left unsaid between us.
Sessions passed and I got better, and we got a little closer. Sometimes you’d sit down next to me and play the harmony to my melody and my heart would skip a beat.
Music lessons became just a guise for us to get to know each other. Even though I really liked hearing about your life, you always held back a little.
But I wanted to know more. I wanted to know you outside of these lessons. And I’m pretty sure you got my hints, obvious as they were.
All we did was meet and practice piano together, but the tension between us was becoming completely unbearable for me.
One session, I wanted to tackle a pretty hard part in that song that I’d been struggling with at home. My fingers never seemed to hit the right keys, and I was getting frustrated.
You just watched me flounder as I played, hand over your mouth, deep in thought. Finally, I’d had enough. I just slammed the keys with my hands and glared at you.
You glanced at the keys and back at me, and I could feel something smoldering.
You told me to stay where I was and walked around behind me.
“Play,” you whispered. Right in my ear.
(ragged breath)
I don’t know what your plan was, but I didn’t think getting the bench soaked was going to help.
(increasingly aroused)
I carefully placed my fingers back on the keys, trembling slightly. God, what were you doing to me?
I tried to get through the first few measures of that section and was screwing up even more. I could feel you watching over my shoulder, silently judging everything I was doing.
“Again,” you’d say after every time I stopped.
“Again… Again… Again…” My hands were shaking. It was just music lessons, right? So why did I feel so small right now?
Eventually, my hands just wouldn’t respond anymore. Everything about you – your voice, your breath, even just the heat from your body behind me – was overpowering.
I couldn’t think straight anymore.
I pressed my legs together, trying to find some relief. Frustration was building on frustration, and I was feeling very frustrated.
You must’ve noticed because you brought your arms around me and placed your hands over mine.
“Just follow me,” you said.
Very slowly, we played through the passage, your hands on top of mine, your fingers guiding my own.
So slowly. But it was perfect.
We lingered on those last notes, your hands resting on mine, mine still shaking. I thought my heart was going to explode.
You stood up and slowly came around to the front of the piano. And shut the lid.
“Get on top of the piano,” is all you said.
(whimper)
I already knew what was happening. Silently, I got up, using the bench as a step, and sat down on the piano. Of course I was wearing a skirt that day.
You walked in front of me and took a seat at the bench.
You reached under my skirt and grabbed my panties, pulling them down even as they clung to my wet pussy.
You spread my legs and there was a moment as you shot a quick glance my way before leaning in.
God, your tongue. I could feel you gently licking around before opening me up slowly.
(improvise masturbation to match story)
I was so worked up that you easily slid in a finger and then two as you moved your mouth from my pussy to suck on my clit.
Your fingers, once again, found the perfect place to be, grinding against that spot inside.
Weeks and weeks of tension broke on that piano as your fingers played inside me like an instrument.
I was getting close but you just slowed down. I was on the edge and you kept me there. I felt like I was writhing on your fingers for minutes, begging you to let me cum.
Finally, you got up, your fingers still working in me, and breathed in my ear.
“Cum for me.”
I came, and I came, and I came so hard around you.
(slowly returning to normal breathing)
I think it may be the hardest I’ve ever cum.
(meaningful pause)
Of course, we cleaned up the room after all that. Our lessons continued, but nothing like that ever happened again.
I learned more about you, about your… late wife, who always used to play piano for you… which is why you always seemed a little distant.
(increasingly emotional)
I’m so sorry.
I really thought about where this journey has taken me after that. Of what I’ve learned about myself.
I mean, before, I never thought I’d pick up music again, or be taken on a piano, or touch myself for strangers on the internet. It only took one bad relationship to cage me.
And you, you were so happy then with her. One relationship was all you needed.
You weren’t ready to be with me, and I respect that, even though it’s so painful.
If there was an ending to this journey, I sort of wish this could’ve been it.
(pensively)
But I’m really happy I met you. And I did rediscover music, which was maybe my first love.
And… I did eventually learn that damn song.
