Masterclass

Cello Master class XTC Nymphette

I have been playing the cello since I was eight, I played violin from 3 until I was 6 years old. I have always loved the sensuous feel of the neck and fingerboard beneath my touch, the beautiful feminine shape and the exquisite wood and craftsmanship of the instrument. I adore the exquisite shape and feel of the curvaceous and elegantly designed wood between my legs. it is as sensuous as any man. The vibrations I feel when I play well, send shivers down my spine and tingles through my body. For many years now I have adopted the habit of playing in the dark to maximise the sensitivity of touch and sound without looking at my fingers. I normally do this before bedtime and so I am either dressed in my nightie or my underwear and sometimes nothing at all. As I have been doing this since I was about 8 I think nothing of it and never imagined it would be remotely sexy, just sensuous. This story is about a time when my sensuous explorations turned to fantasy and then how that fantasy became a reality.

I was working in the summer as a cello tutor at a music camp for girls.

Every year the organisers would arrange for guest conductors and Virtuoso musicians to visit and give master classes. This particular year a sensational cellist from Eastern Europe was the guest. Stanislow was about 34 and ruggedly handsome. Just under six feet tall, dark hair, sad dark eyes and the kind of romantic passion for music that was usually associated with the clichŽ of moody European' sensitive artists'.

His approach was interesting, he would play through a piece with great passion and at the end, he would say in his thick accent 'now for the second movement'. What he meant was that he would take important passionate critical moments in the piece and improvise with them until he understood dozens of ways to play the segments more expressively. It seemed to work and I enjoyed his playing as much as I did his master classes. His approach to teaching was equally as wild and uncompromising and with none of the prim political correctness of western society. At times he would come up behind a player and encircle them with his long arms pressing against them, guiding their fingers, wrapping his hand around theirs to demonstrate how he wanted the bow to move. There wasn't a girl in the orchestra amongst the students or the tutors that didn't swoon when he gave a class. When he did this to me one day I felt him press against my back his strong hands guiding mine as he whispered tenderly to me 'We only have control so we can lose it, no?' and together we attacked the phrase wildly. 'You have a beautiful instrument' he said as he moved to the next student ' I would love to play with it again.' I was weak at the knees and I didn't care whether he was referring to my 300 year-old French cello or my 20 year old body, I was more than a bit damp for the rest of the day. I guessed that with only one decent man amongst dozens of women and girls I suspected he was giving more than a few master classes after hours especially judging by the dreamy looks on the faces of some of the prettier tutors at breakfast each morning.

The music camp was on a remote rural property and the students slept in dormitories, whilst the tutors and organisers generally shared quite comfortable cabins. I was quite lucky and had a cabin to myself. Stan's cabin was not far from mine and sometimes at night or in the early morning, I could hear him practicing what he preached and improvising through some complex passages of music with a passionate interpretation. On the night before the end of the camp, some of the organisers and tutors had a party. I didn't feel in the mood for the kind of adolescent fun they were planning and excused myself for an early night. Stan was at the party surrounded by a gaggle of adoring women and girls and I could see that his capacity for drinking vodka was as big as his reputation for music. I bade them all good night and returned to my cabin.

I showered, undressed and slipped into my favourite white silk crop-top and V string panties. I loved wearing them because the soft shiny silk made me feel sexy and as it was a hot night I wanted to wear something cool. I opened my cello case and switched out the light to do some practice. I sat on the bed and played through a piece Stan had focused on in the last class. It was a little known 20th century work but incredibly moving and difficult. As I played, I started to fantasise about him and found myself feeling quite horny. I imagined the neck and fingerboard of the cello was his cock, my fingers danced up and down it lingering on notes with vibrato and sensuously sliding up and down the neck, all the time firmly gripping it as if I was giving the best hand-job on earth. Next, I focused on my bowing as if this was his cock sliding inside me, thrusting hard on the double and triple stops and sensuously through the sweet melodic passages. I found myself hot and horny, the dampness between my thighs increasing as I played. I gripped the cello between my knees and felt the sensuous tingle of the music vibrating through my knees, I was almost going to cum without touching myself, I was on the edge of orgasm and unbelievably hot.

As I finished the piece, I thought about masturbating and then I could hear Stan's voice in the back of my head 'The second movement is the improvisation'. I pulled the head of the cello to my face and slid my tongue around the scroll, imagining his cock once again. I guided it to my left breast and teased my nipple with it. The pizzicato passage was a part I enjoyed but instead of plucking the strings with my right hand I touched my panties and as I fingered the cello's neck silently. I plucked at my pussy as the tune unfolded in my mind as an improvisation. I repeated passages that gave me most pleasure and began to shiver and moan as I began to sing the tune aloud. The next passage was bowed, so I slid my bow between my legs and pressed it against my panties. I slid it up and down as I continued to sing the tune, moan and shiver, my fingers moving on the neck. I was so excited my panties were soaked with my juices but I continued to bow myself on the edge of orgasm, I was saving that for the finale. I began the wild double-stopping finale and dug my bow hard against me until I was sobbing out the notes, shouting and cumming.

As I recovered, I heard clapping from outside my window. Stan was out there applauding and shouting 'Bravo'. He had obviously been there for a while and in the light of the full moon, he could see me in detail and I him. There was a definite lump in his shorts. He was only wearing shorts and his muscular chest was uncovered, probably because of the heat. He walked towards my open window and climbed in. 'You have a beautiful instrument, I would like to play with it.' He was looking through my cello at my wet panties. 'But first I would like you to show me your fingering again with me as your instrument'. He walked towards me and unzipped his pants letting them drop to the floor, he wasn't wearing any underpants and his thick cock fell out in front of him.

He walked towards me put my cello to one side and guided my hand to his cock. 'Again just like before but with more passion' he began to sing the tune and as he did I slid my fingers up and down his long cock just like I had done with the cello. His singing was only interrupted by the fast vibrato and dramatic slides, which made him, grunt and pant breathlessly. My right hand played the piz passage on his swollen balls and I leaned forward and kissed the head, like I had done in my earlier version, running my tongue around the tip and breathing warm air on it through moist lips until the tune disappeared under his moans and heavy breathing.

'Enough' He shouted. ' Now pick up your cello and play.' I silently let his now throbbing cock drop and resumed sitting on the edge of the bed to play. I placed the cello between my legs, he came up behind me as I began, his legs straddling me from behind, his cock firmly pressed against my back. As I played, he fondled my pert breasts through the soft silk his left hand mimicking my fingering his right my plucking on the front of my panties. I orgasmed almost immediately my nipples were almost screaming to be pinched, my pussy flooded with wetness, I was so hot and horny I squealed but didn't miss a note played.

He commanded me to stand and then slid my panties aside and positioned his cock at my wet entrance. I shivered in anticipation. 'Sit' he commanded, 'Now I will play your beautiful instrument.' I sat down as his cock stretched my pussy lips apart and drizzles of wetness ran down his thick long shaft as he buried it deep inside me. I shivered as he took the cello neck in his powerful hand and the bow in the other. I leant back, put my hands behind me on the bed, and used them so I could move up and down on him. He began to play and I moved up and down to his tempo, when the intensity increase I clamped my pelvic floor muscles around his shaft and gyrated with his vibrato trying to match his every nuance with my pussy playing on his delicious cock. He matched his bowing with his thrusts and I almost passed out with the pleasure cumming repeatedly in crescendos, teetering on the edge in quieter, gentler passages. I could feel as he approached the final cadence his cock began to swell, with each throb closer together. I clamped down on him and felt his breathy moans in my ear he bit my neck hard and then kissed my earlobe and licked my nape. He stopped just before the end and I rose up almost pulling him from me, the tip of his cock firmly positioned a few millimetres inside me. My pussy pulsing around it floods of wetness rolling down his engorged shaft.

He played the finale and thrust into me roughly deeper than deep and his cock erupted in spurts of hot cum that shot inside me triggering a new wave of pleasure for me. I shivered and shook moaning and squealing as his cock spent itself in me. I was over come with pleasure floods of wetness flowed down my inner thighs and he kissed me tenderly on the lips for the first time. 'And now for the improvisation.' I couldn't believe it; he laid the cello aside, put the bow between my legs, and slid his hand under my top. He began to sing in my ear while his left hand slid from my belly to my neck tantalising my tits, teasing my nipples tickling my neck. The bow found the spot on my panties with unbelievable accuracy and I was sobbing and begging him to go on and on. His cock was still inside me and I felt it stir as he played. I summoned all my strength to lift up off him and bend forward and he rammed me hard matching his bow strokes as I came wildly like never before. Waves after wave of orgasm passed over me for what seemed like an eternity.

When we had finished, he said ' Give me those, he motioned toward my panties, they were sopping wet with rosin stains down the centre of the crotch.' I want to keep them in my cello case to remind me how to play with real passion and energy.' I slid them off and wiped myself with them his hot sticky cum oozing from me mingled with my own wetness, and placed them in his open hand. He put on his shorts, kissed me and put the panties in his pocket. ' Thank you for letting me enjoy your beautiful playing and your exquisite instrument, we must do this again.' He turned and climbed out the window to return to his cabin and I could hear him improvising into the night. I stripped off my perspiration soaked crop top, and felt the sticky product of our music making dribbling from my now naked pussy and reached down to scoop a handful to my mouth. It tasted as delicious as our music and I lapped at it like a greedy kitten, laying in bed my head filled with the taste, smell, touch and sound of music and fell into a blissful sleep.