After returning from holidays and discovering that Courtney had moved to another part of the country, I was glum. At the best of times I had been lonely, but I at the end term I finally had someone to share private — albeit brief — moments. Then she was taken from me. I missed her deeply.
I retreated even more than usual from school social life, and found myself frequenting the school's music rooms more often than before. The music rooms were usually empty during lunchtime, so I could sit and listen to music or play guitar without being disturbed.
The weather at the start of the second term of my senior year was unseasonably warm. One lunchtime, a little over a week into the term, all of the upstairs rooms were in use thanks to their air conditioning. I headed downstairs to a music room that was less used and almost guaranteed to be free on account of it lacking air conditioning.
The sound of a flute greeted me as I approached the door. It sounded bad, and I knew instantly who was playing: Rhiannon. She wasn't a particularly good musician, but she enthusiastically tried her best to learn every instrument she could get her hands on.
I stopped and leaned against the wall outside the room. I was reluctant to enter given the piercing squeaks of the flute emanating from the room, but I reasoned that at least I'd only have to share the room with one person with that noise.
I bit the bullet and entered. The door was in the back left corner of the room and Rhiannon was standing in the middle at an angle, facing the front left corner. She was reading the music from a stand, but saw me in her periphery and acknowledged me with a flick of her eyes and a nod.
I motioned to a chair and raised my eyebrows. She nodded again and continued to play. I took a seat in the back right corner, behind Rhiannon.
Although I had already pulled out a book and intended to read, I glanced over at Rhiannon and noticed how her navy blue slacks were stretched tight over her bottom and thighs, flaring slightly at the knees. That really is a nice arse, I thought.
It would be a lie to say that I hadn't always found Rhiannon attractive. At one point I even had a crush on her. She was short and slim — petite — with slightly Germanic features, and red hair that she wore in pigtails. While other girls preferred to wear the school's blue blouse and plaid skirt, Rhiannon opted for the alternative navy blue slacks and polo shirt that accentuated her figure.
I shook my head and buried my nose in my book. The cacophony of squeaks and squeals slowly faded into the background.
After I had read for about ten minutes, I suddenly became aware that room had become quiet. I looked up to see that Rhiannon had lowered her flute and was flicking through her music book.
"This one time ... at band camp," I said to myself.
I could have kicked myself. What had come over to me? I hated that film and felt dirty just for saying it aloud. I hoped Rhiannon hadn't heard.
"I stuck a flute in my pussy," came the reply.
Rhiannon turned and we locked eyes. My eyes darted away, but flicked back to see her thin lips had formed a smile.
She laughed softly.
"You'd like to see that, wouldn't you?" she teased playfully.
I exaggeratedly tilted my head to one side, then the other, as though I was weighing up the question. Internally I shrugged; why lie?
"You know what, yes. Yes, I would."
"Look at you cracking jokes, Forrest Grump."
I stared at her.
"Yeah, I've noticed," she continued. "I'm pretty sure everyone else has too. What's up?"
I didn't know whether or not to confide in her, but I needed to tell someone.
"I miss Courtney," I said at last.
"Courtney?" she asked rhetorically. "I didn't know you were close."
"Only for a little while, just before she moved. We should have had more time. Now she's gone."
"I'm sorry."
I looked at Rhiannon. She meant it.
We sat in silence, until she spoke again.
"Could you hold this for a moment?" she asked, holding out her flute.
I stood up and walked over to her, taking the instrument from her. She wrapped her arms around my midriff and gave me a hug. I felt genuinely touched by the gesture.
After she let go of me, she walked to the door and closed it, dragging a desk up against the doorjamb so that it couldn't be pushed open from the outside. She returned to me and took the flute back.
"I'm not Courtney, but I think I can oblige you somewhat," she said with a mischievous grin.
I was puzzled, but before I could saying anything Rhiannon had unbuttoned her slacks and peeled them down to her knees, revealing a pair of jet black panties. She winked, then sat on a desk and wiggled her bottom back until she could bend her knees and put her feet on the edge of the desk. Her short stature came in handy.
Her upper back was now flat on the desk, her neck bent forward toward her knees. She grasped the flute in one of her small hands and put the other between her legs, pulling her panties aside by the gusset.
I could see her thin, narrow slit, a little wet around the edges. She positioned the flute and slowly pushed it past her small labia.
Rhiannon started sliding the flute in and out of herself as I watched with surprise. I felt the familiar sensation of blood rushing to my member and it stiffening. As I watched her, I started stroking myself through my trousers.
I became harder and harder was I watched Rhiannon fuck herself with the flute. She let out soft moans of pleasure as she thrust the instrument into her slit.
I couldn't take it anymore and unbuckled my belt, unbuttoned my trousers, and pulled them and my underwear to my knees. My hand went to my erect member and I began to slowly tug myself off.
Rhiannon raised her head to look at me. The flute stopped moving.
"Come over here," she said. It was an invitation rather than a command.
I let myself go and waddled over to her.
"Around here," she said, jerking her head.
I approached her, my erection level with her face. She turned her head to the side and opened her mouth.
